Under the Goddess Moon
by TrainScribbler
Summary: Post Avengers. Loki finally receives his wish to be treated equal to Thor and is banished to Midgard. Stranded and destitute, he is taken under the wing of a desert dwelling woman, a witch who may be his way home, but also something greater. Loki/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Before you start reading, I feel I have to adress some of the things in my story. This fic will contain Wiccans (witches), and detail various tidbits of lore and magick. I myself am a Wiccan and felt including these sorts of characters in this story would make it interesting. However, as it's also in the Marvel universe a lot of what's in the story is fantastical and quite frankly, made up. When in Rome and all that. So really, I just want to say in advance, if there's anything in this story that offends anyone, I apologise very sincerely now. I've tried to treat things with respect but well, also write a half decent fic too. That said, I hope anyone who does read this enjoys it. And if anyone feels kid enough to review, it would be very much appreciated :) Thanks very much.**

Puente Antiguo is not a place where you would expect oddities. At least, not until a couple of years ago. Until then it had been a dry dust ball of a place, simply pottering along in the New Mexican breeze, largely unremarkable and unnoticed. It's single town had a population of less than two thousand and was more a pitstop for truckers than anything else. The most exciting thing that generally happened was the annual chill cook-off.

That was until the terrorist attack. That's what the media had labelled it. Seemingly impossible for such an indescript place but none the less, in minutes half the town had been blown to smithereens.

The government had hushed things up as much as they could, but stories flew of metal suited giants and cannons of fire. For a while Stark took a lot of flack. People seemed to think he had gone rogue.

But eventually Puente Antiguo had rebuilt itself, rising like a small, industrial termite mound from the desert sand and life carried on in a remarkably similar fashion as it always had. Southern people are resilient. When disaster strikes people do what they always did, only more so.

And so the night of the storm never raised so much as an eyebrow amongst the town's population, even with the light show it brought with it. Only a handful of people, outsiders even by the desert's standards, gave it any credence. And only one chose to leave the shelter of her wind-bitten home and follow the alien looking aurora borealis that stained the sky violet.

* * *

"Father, I beg of you, reconsider!"

In golden halls of ancient beings, two broad pillars of men stood arguing, incandescent light shimmering off of skin and velvet robes, armour contouring muscles that spoke of physical prowess no mortal man possessed.

"You dare question my judgement? I am your King! My command is law!" The elder of the two roared in rage and something else, some hidden wound beneath the anger. His one eye glimmering intensely, he glared at Thor, his son, and the Thunder God swore he could feel the other empty socket glaring at him, burning into him.

"Father, if you do this, what love do you show him? You speak of him as your son still but you would condemn him to weakness and danger in a foreign realm? Better he remain with his people, with us, imprisoned yes, but secure. We should be helping him!"

As the two behemoths roared, a smaller, lither figure knelt between them, muzzled like a dog. His mind was far removed from the conversation, flesh prickling with scorn. These two, who played the pretence of family, would condemn him either way. He was no longer of use to anyone. He had no place, no purpose. He could not even summon the energy to be concerned for his life. What did it matter if it was taken from him? He could not see it as being any loss, even to himself…

"He cannot be allowed to remain in Asgard, his trickery knows no bounds. He will find some other way to bring danger to our people. On Midgard he will be contained, powerless."

"He will be abandoned!" Thor's voice was cavernous in the hall, causing the floor to vibrate.

"I have loved you both equally, but this has been rebuked. Loki will learn, as you did, perhaps become something better."

Well. Look at that. Even when being penalised it was in Thor's shadow…

* * *

Clambering up an outcrop of sandy rock, bare feet searching for footholds, she pressed her body flat to garner some shelter from the wind. Sand bit her cheeks and lips as it tore through the air. Bringing her forearm to her brow in an attempt to protect her eyes, she leant further forwards to gaze out across the desert plateau and into the heavens. The ground was being torn up by a twister, the sky low and broiling. She should move. She should move…

And then the clouds broke, revealing what could only be described as a view of the heavens. Forked lightning shot across the sky in webs of blue and violet, tearing the atmosphere and revealing swimming aurora, like nebulas almost within reach of outstretched fingertips. Fluid light of impossible colour scudded over, the air slick with it like an oil spill, making the world hum. There was no rain but the sonic booms of thunderclaps vibrated her bones and in that moment she was sure she could feel the whole of existence. Scrabbling to her feet she stood at the peak of the stones, throwing her hands skyward. She wanted to embrace this moment, when she could feel the Lord and Lady saturating the very air. Fingers of static plucked at the ebony tresses of her hair, the moment was culminating and she knew it would be over all too soon. She took a deep breath, wanting Their blessing before the storm died.

The air shifted suddenly, the smell of electricity and dust filling her nostrils. Without any warning the wind dropped and for a moment she panicked, thinking she was in they eye of the storm. But something had killed it. Taking a deep breath she peered up, the sudden quiet and stillness eerie. The lights were just… Gone. Just desert silence once more, endless vast quiet. It was as though there had been no storm at all.

Sitting heavily she pulled her old tan duffel coat around herself tightly, taking a slow, meaningful breath. Adrenaline coursed through her still, her heart dancing in her chest. If she had not seen it she'd never of believed there'd been such a violent, exquisite event of nature. She had felt something and seen skies she'd never seen, nor did she think she'd see them again. Something had happened. She was sat on this stone for a reason.

Picking grit from her eyelashes, she gave a silent prayer of thanks and after waiting a couple of minutes for her legs to steady, she stood back up, ready to return to the old, beaten up, powder blue pick up truck she'd driven over.

As she stretched out her muscles though, her eyes fell on something in the valley below and she uttered an involuntary,

"Oh…"

* * *

The silence was oppressive as the guards removed Loki's armour and robes. As he stood before his once family, they tentatively undid the muzzle and drew back hurriedly, as though he might bite them. Thor skulked at the rear of the chamber like a sulking child as the All Father took a few steps forwards, his spear in hand. Regarding Loki in silence for a moment, he touched the golden tip to his chest, the metal cold through his thin shirt. Odin looked resigned, ancient and tired of this life.

"Loki, Prince of Asgard, for your crimes I have deemed it fit you be banished from this place. You shall have no power, no return, you will walk upon Midgard as a mortal where you can do no more damage." The King's voice was resolute but his face looked haggard as the spear began to glow, streams of blue light being drawn from Loki's chest and a portal twisted into being behind him. It was the first moment he felt something akin to fear and looking up at Thor he had one last glimpse of the Thunder God's torn expression before he was vaulted back into an abyss between realms.

* * *

Bare feet pounding on the dry lakebed of the desert floor, chest burning as lungs grappled with freezing night air, she closed the gap between herself and the crumpled shape, an island in a barren sea. As she reached the figure she dropped to her knees beside him, tearing off her coat. With a grunt of effort she rolled him onto his back and felt her breath stick in her throat. He was as pale as bleached linen and unconscious. Throwing the coat over him she lowered her head near to his. A feeble breath stroked her cheek. He was still alive, if only barely.

Panic rising in her chest, she prayed aloud for strength as she dragged him up, arm strewn over her shoulder, she staggered to her feet. There wasn't time to drive back and get help, he might die from the cold before she returned. And so she struggled back to the truck with him, each step a mile.

Finally she got him back to the old Chevy and laid him across the seat, whole body aching. From the small overhead light in the cab she saw his face was peppered with bruises and cuts, some of them fresh. Pulling out a woollen blanket from the back of the truck, she tucked it around him tightly before squeezing into the driver's seat. Resting what she hoped would register as a comforting hand on his forehead she revved the clunking engine into life, spinning up reams of dirt as she sped through the night.

* * *

Grayson Phillips was awoken by someone hammering on his door. Wiping away the dregs of sleep from his eyes, he glanced at the clock beside his bed. 2.49 am glared back at him in neon green.

"Son of a…" The man dragged himself out of the bed, coughing a couple of times. While old he was not generally cantankerous, but being dragged up in the middle of the night wasn't his idea of a good time.

The banging was growing louder, accompanied by a voice:

"Gray! Gray, help me!"

This got him moving. With surprising speed for a man in his seventies he sprang to the door of his R.V, throwing it open to see a young woman looking pale and frightened in the dull glow of his mosquito trap.

"Jesus Maeve," he said hoarsely, "what's going on?"

"I need your help," she replied breathlessly. "Quickly, over here."

She ran to her truck, pulling the passenger door open. The cab light flooded the Chevy, showing a crumpled form inside.

"Help me get him inside, quick, quick, he's hurt."

She was already running to her own mobile home, fumbling with her keys and tugging the door open. Grayson ducked to look in the truck, scowling as he said,

"Maeve, baby, this guy looks like he needs a hospital…"

"Nah uh, the nearest one isn't for forty miles," she called. "Come on, I think he's in shock, get him in!"

By now the commotion was attracting the attention of others in the caravan convoy that they were in. Doors of brightly painted vans were opening, wind chimes clinking as curious heads poked out of slim doorways. Frowning, Grayson heaved the stray over his shoulder and into Maeve's van. Inside she was pulling the covers back on her narrow bed, a kettle hissing on the gas hob.

"Lay him down there, that's it."

Obediently he did so, peering at the man scrutinizingly. He wasn't entirely sure he was actually alive. Behind him the girl was digging through cupboards, pulling out jars, first aid kit, a bowl. She decanted some hot water then gathered all the things together at the end of the bed, rolling up her shirt sleeves. Then she turned to usher Grayson out of the door, much to his protest.

"Baby girl, I don't think you should be doin' this. Somethin' don't sit right."

"It's fine," she replied, voice half a whisper, adrenaline making her eyes shine. "He needs help. You're just next door, if I need you, I'll yell."

"You better," the old man said with a frown. "I'll bring the bat."

"Don't you dare." She gave him a smile before shutting the door in his face. Swearing to himself, he headed back to bed amid curious whispers as the others stared at the girl's door.

Inside she was setting about her work with expert efficiency. Cutting her patient's shirt open with a mumbled apology, she saw deep purple bruising on his abdomen and cursed. Palpating carefully she found one cracked rib, then two. Silently wondering just how he'd got to this point, she flicked on a gas heater and opened up the first aid kit, digging about for some chemical icepacks which she snapped to get them going. Half clambering onto the bed she held them to his bruises until they were melted, then slowly bandaged his torso, not too tight, biting her lip as she realised he didn't even flinch. He really was gone deep…


	2. Chapter 2

_Loki dreamt of forests. Of the smell of moss and bark and things of the undergrowth he could not name. He dreamt of warm sunlight bathing his skin and the taste of green in his mouth._

_But through this peaceful vision a nagging pain spread over him, burning his chest and making his private world crumble around him. He struggled to hold onto it, this last shred of peace, but it was falling away and he was grappling alone in the dark, searing, grasping at empty space…_

* * *

A groan woke her from a fitful sleep. She was balled up on the floor beside the bed, a crochet blanket round her shoulders. It took her a moment to remember there was someone else in her van. She sat up, peering over the edge of the bed. The wounded man let out another pained moan, eyes still closed. The girl sat on the edge of the bed, wringing out a flannel in the bowl of still warm water, the steam rising from it smelling of something earthy. Gently she bathed the bruises on his face, speaking to him softly:

"You're ok. You're safe here."

His face twitched into a frown and the girl gasped as a lightning quick hand seized her wrist, stopping the cloth in its tracks.

"It's alright," she whispered, a flutter of fear in her voice, "you can let go. I'm not going to hurt you."

She felt his grip relax, though he didn't let go. Groggily his eyes opened, revealing piercing green irises that looked up at her as though they'd never seen another person before. The two stared at each other for a long moment in silence, before he tried to sit up, letting out a hiss of pain. He released her wrist and she leant over, pressing his shoulders to lay him down again.

"Easy does it," she said softly. "You need to rest." The girl wrung out the cloth in the bowl of water again and pressed it to a dark bruise on his jaw. He continued to stare at her unblinking, the silence pendulous. She was small, little more than five foot and slightly on the skinny side. Freckles dusted her cheeks and nose, wispy waves of ebony hair falling about her shoulders, tendrils framing her face. Cornflower blue eyes held his gaze as she tended to him and he noticed a pendant dangling beneath her collar bones, a five point star woven of pewter branches and surrounded by a circle of knot work. She refreshed the cloth and held it to his temple. He twitched slightly and she gave him a gentle smile.

"Sorry. It's willow, it should help with the pain. And some arnica. I hope you're not allergic to anything." She tilted her head as she dabbed at his face, peering at him.

"You've got a couple of fractured ribs. If you want I can take you to the hospital but it's a way off and to be honest, there's nothing more they can do. You just need to rest." She paused with the cloth, a crease of a frown in her pale brow. "You've been hurt pretty badly. Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Silence.

"Alright, you don't have to, it's ok. You can stay here, you're perfectly safe, I promise." She dropped the flannel into the bowl and stood up, wandering to the gas hob. Loki watched her for a moment, then peered around himself. The domicile was small and cluttered, but it was neat, even attractive. Scarves and richly painted fabrics draped the walls, the bed sheets a deep purple satin. In one corner stood a low square cabinet adorned with a cloth. It too was decorated with knot work in silver and green and atop it were several candles and strange objects; a chalice, feathers, crystals, a pair of smoking incense sticks, several figures of varying size; faceless female forms, their bellies and hips swollen, a man with a cloak of leaves and the horns of a stag, a woman swathed in lovingly carved robes, three moons on her brow. There was a sprig of dry plants wrapped in bright ribbons and in the centre a disc of onyx with the same five point star symbol cut into it.

Loki breathed in the cocktail of foreign smells, feeling his head swim as the girl sat back on the edge of the bed, a mug in hand. She had tiny beads of silver in her hair, some tipping fine braids and a tattoo on her left shoulder, trailing ivy leaves that crept over her collar bone and down her chest, vanishing under her vest top. She leant over, brining the cup to his lips and he saw another tattoo on the inside of her wrist, a stylized stag bust in profile, full moon nestled in his antlers.

"Drink," she said gently. "It'll make you sleep without dreaming. Valerian."

He took a deep draught, scowling at the taste and she gave him an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, I know it's bitter. It works though." She set the cup on the bedside locker, twitching the bedcovers. "My name is Maeve by the way. You?" Tilting her head, she looked at him expectantly.

More silence.

"You don't say much, do you?"

He looked back at her, feeling his head spin. He was struggling to keep his eyes open, whatever she had given him was working. The girl brushed a few stray hairs from his face, blowing the candles out on the strange table of objects.

"It's alright, just go with it. It's the best thing for you."

He was falling into darkness, silence, he was nothing, he longer existed…

* * *

Loki awoke with a jolt, staring blankly at the ceiling of the caravan. In a horrible rush the memory of last night came back to him. Stripped of his powers, a mortal man, cursed to the wastelands of Midgard. He felt the dull throb of pain still, pain that should have subsided within minutes of his wounds. He was in a strange world with no idea where to go, what to go, he had gone from being a prince among Gods to a… a human speck.

The weight in his chest felt close to crushing him. It was monumental, suffocating. Closing his eyes, he brought his hands to his face, groaning into them, a hollow, desperate sound. Rather Odin had killed him than this…

The door to the caravan opened, the small girl called Maeve stepping in with her arms full of folded clothing. Upon seeing he was awake she set them on the kitchen counter, filling a glass with water and padding softly over to the side of the bed, setting it down for him. Sitting on the floor she looked up, resting her chin on her knees. After a beat Loki pulled his hands away and looked down at her. She looked drawn and grey. He suspected she had not slept all night.

"How are you feeling?" she asked softly. Unsurprisingly he didn't answer. His eyes moved over her face slowly, as though searching her. She squirmed for a moment then got to her feet, collecting the clothes and setting them at the end of the bed.

"I called in some favours," she said, gesturing to them. "I'll be outside, give you some privacy. Just be careful. If you need me, you can call."

She hurried out of the van, taking a few deep breaths of warm desert air. Around her others were packing up, some mobile homes already leaving. Grayson wandered over to her, hands in pockets, a leather Stetson shading his face.

"This don't feel right, leavin' you here to deal with that fella alone. Please, baby, take him to a hospital, the police, someplace where he's someone else's problem." His gravelly voice was filled with concern, his gaze travelling over her shoulder to her caravan. She glanced back, then to him.

"Trust me on this, hm? I think.. I think I was meant to find him," she whispered, smiling weakly. "That storm, the lights… I think They were pulling me there."

"Honey, guys don't just fall outta the sky beat up like that." He was imploring her, fearful for her.

"Gray, I can take care of myself. You know that," she said, taking the old man's worn had to reassure him. "I'll see you again in a month, it's not long."

"You better call, missy. Call plenty and often." He pressed a fatherly kiss to her head, then pulled something from his neck and tucked it into her hand.

"For protection," he muttered, before stroking her cheek and turning away to climb into the cab of his R.V. Maeve watched silently as one by one they left, till she stood alone, the hem of her gypsy skirt dancing in the breeze around her feet. Looking down at her hand, she found Grayson had left her with a copper pendant, the old Norse symbol the Helm of Awe. She smiled fondly, slipping it onto the chain about her neck to rest alongside her pentacle.

"Silly thing," she murmured, before sitting on the ground, her pale skin prickling in the desert sun. She wasn't born for this type of place but was instead of Irish descent. Most of her life though she'd spent in a quiet Devonshire village, her father deciding to relocate there when her mother passed. All she had left to show her heritage was a mild Gaelic lilt and the colouring of a Colleen. The sudden move to deep south America wasn't for the weather but to follow Gray. She had nothing left in England so why not?

Idly rubbing the necklace he'd given her with her thumb, she tried to debate whether or not to go back in her van. The silence surrounding the stranger was beginning to grate. The way he'd looked at her this morning had made her skin goose bump. She almost entertained the idea that maybe he couldn't speak…

Laying back on the ground she closed her eyes, feeling the events of last night catching up with her. As the warm breeze covered her, she thought about dozing outside. She felt calm and still and very tired…

She was awoken by the sound of a bird of prey calling overhead. Sitting up, she winced as she realised she'd been sleeping in midday sun and looking down at her arms she was already beginning to burn. Decision made for her; she'd have to go in.

Opening the door, she peered around it, seeing her houseguest had gone back to sleep. The clothes remained untouched on the end of the bed. The glass of water though, was empty.

Gingerly she sat on the bed beside him, pulling back the sheet to check on his bandaging. She noticed a furrow in his brow, his fist balled around the sheet tightly, knuckles blanched.

"What happened to you?" she whispered. Turning to the cluttered table, her altar, she picked up a tiny triple moon pendant and carefully tucked it into his fist.

"Look after him, Mother." She watched him sleep for a moment, then got to her feet, pottering in the kitchenette.

He slept through the whole day and in the evening Maeve built a small fire in an iron pit outside her van, throwing some handfuls of herbs into it and sitting in a deck chair with a poncho round her shoulders. She stretched her feet out towards the fire, curling her toes and sipping a cup of chamomile tea. Looking up at the stars she felt an aching loneliness in her chest. The night after an esbat always left her with an emptiness it took her a few days to shake. Grayson had tried to persuade her to move into his condo a few times, to live like a normal person, but she couldn't do it. She belonged somewhere wild…

She had to do something about her houseguest. There must be something she could do, someone she could call for him…

When her tea was gone and the fire was dieing down, she went back to her van. Stepping in as quietly as she could she set the cup in the sink, then went to check on her patient again. Out of curiosity she checked pulse, finding his skin was ice cold. Frowning, she pulled an extra blanket out from an overhead cupboard, tucked it around him, then grabbed some other spare linen, arranging it in a make-shift bed in the narrow gap between the bed and the altar. Hunkering down she yawned, exhausted and felt the chamomile help lull her to her sleep swiftly.


	3. Chapter 3

In the middle of the night she was woken by an unfamiliar sound. Sitting up, she peered over the top of the bed, to see the man in it had his face buried in the blankets, rolled on his side and was weeping. It was a raw, keening sound and made Maeve's chest hurt. Unable to stop herself, she clamboured onto the bed beside him, laying one hand in the centre of his back. He seemed unaware of her presence but she remained there, eventually pressing herself against his back, embracing him as much as she dared. He was a stranger, perhaps a dangerous one. But right now he was in pain and attempting to comfort him was all she could do.

She remained like this for maybe an hour until he grew calm and still, his breathing ragged. Propping herself up on her elbow, she looked over his shoulder at him. He was staring glassily into space. Maeve brushed away some damp hair from his face, saying softly,

"I need you to tell me if there's anything I can do."

To her surprise he shook his head. It was the first response she'd had for him. In fact, this new acknowledgment he'd given her suddenly made her feel awkward at how close she was to him. She sat up quickly, pulling her hair over one shoulder and sliding off the end of the bed. She floundered for a moment, then busied herself with the kettle, looking for a distraction. The man sat up in the bed, watching her intently, then broken the silence;

"Loki."

The girl froze midway through putting a spoon of honey in a teacup, slowly turning on her heel to look back at him.

"My name. It is Loki. You asked before."

She gazed at him, then broke into a warm smile, stirring the spoon into the cup before wandering over and offering it to him.

"Hello, Loki. Here. It tastes a lot better than the valerian."

She sat at the foot of the bed as he sipped from the mug, albeit suspiciously. She watched him quietly, hands folded in her lap. He looked as though his thoughts were many miles away.

"Is there anyone I can call for you?" she asked gently. He shook his head slightly, staring into the middle distance. Maeve shuffled back onto the bed a little more, crossing her legs and pulling one of the shirts she'd borrowed into her lap, refolding it a couple of times. When she looked up she saw Loki was sat up, watching her. She swallowed, her skin prickling under his emerald gaze.

"I can drive you somewhere if you need me to. I'm supposing you weren't in the middle of the desert intentionally?"

"Where am I?" he said slowly, his voice smooth and refined.

"Erm, Puente Antiguo? New Mexico. You didn't know?"

"I have been a little lost of late…" He rested his cup in the palm of his hand, looking down at himself, at the bedspread. "You have been kind."

"I did what I could." Maeve pushed a hand through her hair, yawning. Loki plucked at one of the bandages around his chest experimentally, then noticed a fine silver chain tangled round his fingers. Holding up his hand he gazed at the triple moon dangling from it.

"What is this?" he asked, tilting his head. Maeve felt something vaguely predatory in his gaze as she answered, the hairs on the back of her neck tingling;

"It's, um, it's just a symbol. Of a Goddess. You were having bad dreams. I thought it might help…" She flushed pale pink, breaking his gaze. He looked at her in silence for a few moments, then at the altar.

"You are a sorceress?"

"Generally we call ourselves wiccans." She sounded awkward, as though expecting to be reprimanded. Loki peered at her, then at the necklace. Being near a witch, even a mortal one, it was asking for trouble. She may be human but she had been… decent, and if he harmed her… Well, it might stay with him.

Biting the inside of his lip from the pain in his torso, he swung his legs out of the girl's narrow bed, pulling the shirt from her hands much to her protest.

"What are you doing? You're going to hurt yourself, you should rest!" Maeve jumped to her feet, lightly resting her hands on his arms to try and steer him back. Loki looked down at her , jet hair falling over his face.

"It is Maeve, yes?"

She nodded slightly, applying a little more pressure to push him back. He didn't move.

"Maeve, you have been good and likely saved my life. I cannot stay here. Believe me." He held the triple moon pendant out to her but she closed his hand around it.

"Keep it. You need it more than me." He frowned at her, looking bemused. In silence he lifted the shirt, hissing in pain as he slipped it on. Maeve stepped forward, pulling it from his hands and buttoning it up for him. He looked down at her, frown deepening.

"How old are you, Maeve?" he asked softly.

"Twenty two," she replied, matter-of-fact. Loki could almost feel himself recoiling. She took the pendant from his hand, standing on tip toes to clasp it around his neck and he wanted to push her away. She reeked of innocence and he felt like a ticking time bomb around her.

"Tell me where you want to go and I'll drive you," she said, smoothing down the collar of the steel grey shirt. He caught her hands, moving her aside.

"You stay here. I cannot go anywhere with you," he said in a low voice, stepping around her and pulling his boots on. He was panting in pain but let himself out of the van into the night air. He looked around himself, turning on his heel, one hand resting on his torso as he struggled. The night was vast and empty and behind him Maeve stood in the doorway, pointing out the obvious succinctly;

"Where are you going to go?"

He looked back at her, beginning to feel dizzy with pain. She stepped down from the van and rest a steadying hand on the small of his back.

"Just tell me where you want to go and I can drive you," she said again gently. "If you don't want to go with me because I'm a witch, don't worry, I… I'm just a sort of hippy…" Her voice was weary, as though this was a conversation she'd had many times before. "I'm not a bad person, I just-"

"I know, I know," Loki said, cutting her off. He looked down at her, chest feeling as though it was being pounded by a sledgehammer.

"Then tell me, please, let me help." He looked down at her, releasing a defeatist sigh.

"The truth of it is, I do not have anywhere to go. But I should not remain here, it isn't right." Maeve took his arm, helping him stand.

"Why?"

Her face was young and sweet. A child of the very race he had tried to suppress, had almost eradicated, tending to him with genuine kindness and honesty. He began to feel nauseous. He found he could give her no answer, there was none that would suffice. Instead he looked away and up at the stars, thinking how cruel this was.

"Come on," she was saying, "it's cold out here. Come back inside." She tugged on his arm gently, steering him back to the van. He allowed himself to be led, feeling detached from his own skin. Inside she sat him back down on the bed then turned to the altar and lit an incense cone, blue curls of herb scented smoke climbing into the air. Loki lay back on the bed, his brow clammy from exertion and pain. He glanced down at the floor, seeing the crumpled bedding and then up at Maeve as she pulled on a cardigan than dangled to her knees.

"You have lost your home," he said as she knelt on the floor.

"The desert is my home. I'm just loaning out a bed." She smiled, lying down and propping her head on her hand. "Your name's really Loki?"

"Yes."

"Hm. Your parents must have had an interesting sense of humour.."

"You have no idea."

Maeve laid back on her pillow, closing her eyes. Loki watched her silently, the sickly feeling not going away…

* * *

Far beyond the reaches of Earth, nestled in the branches of Yggdrasil stood Asgard, home of the Aesir. Their prince, the Thunder God Thor was striding along the remains of the Bifrost towards Heimdall, the Way Watcher. They greeted one another as old friends, grasping each other's wrists firmly before turning to look out at the sprays of stars.

"What do you see?" asked the prince.

"Your brother. He is safe, if you are concerned." Heimdall's golden eyes remained unmoving but there was no question he could see, he was watching.

"Where is he?"

"In the desert. A witch child has taken him in. He was wounded from the fall, but she is giving him medicine." Thor raised an eyebrow.

"He is allowing it?"

"He is. Without her, he may not have survived…" Heimdall looked at Thor, smiling slightly. "The All Father is wise. Loki may learn some humility in mortality."

"Or he may punish the humans around him for his banishment…" The golden haired God pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Fear not. He is currently stranded by injury and isolation." Heimdall folded his arms on the hilt of his sword.

"And when he is healed?"

"There is much time for him to learn until then."

"I hope you are right, old friend," sighed Thor, "I really do."


	4. Chapter 4

Loki awoke from the heat, kicking off the blankets. He looked down at the floor to see Maeve was not there. With a grunt of effort he climbed out of the bed, stumbling to the door. Opening it, he shielded his eyes from the sun, gaze falling on Maeve's back, almost bare in a light vest shirt. More ivy leaves sprawled over her back, glimpsed through her hair. She was sat at a camping table slicing fruit and tossing it into a bowl, her bare feet small and white on the dusty ground. She was humming to herself, appearing perfectly at home against the backdrop of the desert visage.

Loki wandered over, rubbing his abdomen to try and soothe the dull ache. He hovered a couple of feet away, Maeve not noticing yet and wondered idly whether human witches had any power at all.

Maeve sliced a strawberry in half before her head jerked up, fingers shining wetly with juice. Twisting in her seat she looked up at Loki and smiled warmly at him, wiping her hands on a dishtowel on the table. She picked up the bowl, offering it to him as she stood up before him.

"Hungry?"

He looked down at her for a long moment, his sharp, pale features framed by jet hair completely alien in the New Mexican sun. She looked back at him levelly and eventually he took a strawberry. Satisfied, she set the bowl back down on the table, saying,

"Help yourself," before wandering back to the van, calling as she did, "I have to head to town for a little while, run a few errands." She stuck her head back out the door, adding;

"I keep my money in a coffee jar in the overhead by the sink. If you're going to rob me, at least don't make a mess."

Loki arched an eyebrow at this, popping the strawberry into his mouth as she pattered down the steps from the van, bag over her shoulder and keys in hand.

"I'll be a couple of hours at the most. If you're still here later then I'll see you then." Maeve smiled at him before climbing into her Chevy, tying up her hair before she pulled away. Loki watched hr go, then looked around himself, muttering,

"Wonderful…"

Over the afternoon he wandered around the van, familiarising himself with his surroundings, then inside he gently worked his way through each of the objects on Maeve's altar, inspecting each piece. Above it was a shelf of books; The Witches' Kitchen, the Wiccan Handbook, the Prose Edda. He pulled this last one down, flicking through the pages, reading a few lines of the human interpretations of his people's exploits and smirking to himself.

When Maeve returned he was still running his fingers down the books' spines. She came into the door with bags lopped over her wrists, her shoulders and cheeks pinched from the sun. She looked genuinely surprised to see he was still there. Putting the bags on the counter she went to his side, following his gaze.

"You can read them if you like," she said. Loki look down at her wordlessly, eyes falling on the Helm of Awe symbol resting beneath the hollow of her throat. He knew that mark, he had seen it carved into the helmets of Odin's soldiers…

She caught him looking at her, giving him a tentative smile and grabbing a bag from the kitchen counter, offered it to him.

"I had to guess your size. I hope they're ok."

Loki looked in the bag, seeing some clothes rolled up inside. When he looked up again, Maeve had already left the van.

* * *

In the evening when the air had cooled Maeve built a fresh fire in her iron pit, pouring herself a glass of wine. Loki hadn't appeared since she'd given him the clothes and she couldn't find a valid reason to go back inside. He'd barely speak to her and she didn't know what to say to him. The intensity around him was not something she was accustomed to with people. Obviously he was deeply hurt but he didn't seem the sharing type and she didn't know what else there was left to do but wait for him to tell her what he needed.

As she sipped from her glass she slowly realised he was standing beside her, watching the flames dance. She hadn't heard him open the door. Sitting up in her deck chair she set her glass down before moving to sit on the ground. Patting the seat, she pulled a crochet blanket Around her shoulders, pulling up on knee to her chest. Loki lowered himself into the seat, looking into the fire. She noticed he'd changed into on if the shirts she'd bought him. Pouring a second glass of wine she offered it up to him and he took it with a silent nod of thanks.

They sat without speaking for a long time, Maeve looking up at the stars, watching them move overhead. Occasionally a log in the fire fizzled and spat, sending small crimson embers into the air. The smell of something foreign rose in the smoke, sweet and heady.

Eventually it was Loki who broke the silence;

"You choose to live out here?" Maeve jumped at the sudden voice, taking a large swallow of her drink before replying.

"Mmhm. I've been here over a year now."

"Why?" He was giving her that look again, of inspection, weighing her up.

"I followed someone out here." She topped off her glass, brushing her hair away from her face.

"Do you enjoy it here?" he asked her, his voice low and even.

"Yes. Really, yes," she said, reclining slightly to look up at the sky once more. "It makes sense for me to be here."

"Tell me." She turned her head to look at him, arching an eyebrow. He looked back at her, glass resting on his knee untouched. "Tell me what it means to be a witch living in the wilderness."

Maeve could almost feel a small point burning in the back of her skull under his gaze. She drained her glass before taking a deep breath and launching into the story of her beliefs, of the old Gods and the Mother Goddess, the way her world worked and the principles that guided her life. The more she talked and the more he watched her, the more she blurted out, intimate things she'd never told anyone, of communing with this God or that, presences that she'd felt, things she'd felt change by her hand, the invisible forces that flowed through her life. It spilled out of her like water, as though she needed this stranger to understand and at the same time was sure that he did. He let her talk for well over an hour, the firelight dancing on her face as his gaze never left her. Her whole spiritual life she'd been met with scepticism, but he seemed to be genuinely listening, the aura of intensity around him almost unbearable.

Finally she came to the night of the storm, pausing for a moment to gather her thoughts. It still felt raw, as though the thunder might sound again at any moment. Choosing her words carefully, she lowered her voice as she said;

"The night I found you, something pulled me out into the desert, into a phenomenon I have never seen the likes of. It was like a string in my chest, leading me out there…" She paused, passing her empty glass from one hand to the other. "The Vikings believed there were three women, the Norns, who controlled all our fates. They sat at the foot of the World Tree, Yggdrasil and spun men's destines one thread at a time. This thread shaped your whole life and it couldn't be denied.

"The other night something led met out into probably the most dangerous night of my life. It drove me into the desert, drove me to stay even when I had a twister almost on top of my head, and then I found you. And your name… I don't know, sceptics say people find meaning in the things they want to believe. But honestly, I felt as though someone was pulling my thread pretty hard…"

She poured herself another glass of wine, her head spinning slightly. He was a stranger but here she was, divulging every private thought, spiritual moment. He had asked her a simple question but somehow it had opened the floodgates. She had this overwhelming desire for him to understand. She couldn't put her finger on why but it had unnerved her.

When she finally felt able to, she looked up at Loki to gauge his reaction. The way he gazed back at her was enough to almost make her drop her glass. It was a look of mixed feelings, of misery and hunger, perhaps even a touch of awe. It was there, like an exposed nerve for her to see. Something she had said had struck home and the prickling of her skin under this horrible gaze was like a warning bell going off. She broke it, looking back at the life, praying he'd stop when she heard him say slowly;

"I didn't think people still believed in the Aesir." Risking a glance back at him through her hair she saw he was staring at the night sky. Feeling a flutter of relief, she replied,

"Of course we do. We're just not that vocal about it. It's an easy way to get yourself called crazy…"

Loki put his untouched drink on the ground, slumping slightly in the deck chair to better watch the stars.

"As I recall, although they were Gods, they were not necessarily good ones," he said, stretching one leg briefly. "They could be abusive of their status…"

"They're a mixed bag really. Neither good nor bad. Take your namesake for example. He was labelled the God of Evil, but he was the one who warned Odin against Surtur. It is easy to think of beings of either totally fallible or totally infallible, but honestly, how can we know? Logic dictates it would be more complex than that…"

Maeve took a sip from her glass, feeling a slight wispiness around the edge of her mind. She looked up at Loki, watching him in turn watch the sky. He seemed to be looking beyond the constellations, at something further as he said in a low voice;

"And do you truly believe these things?"

"Yes," she replied softly, "I do."

Nothing else was said for a while. Silence hung between them as Maeve's face flushed from the wine and the warmth of the fire. At one point she ducked inside the van and when she came out again she lay a blanket around Loki's shoulders, standing beside him and peering up as though she might see what he was seeing above. She jumped when he broke the quiet, saying,

"Are you this compulsively kind to every stray you find?" It was almost contemptuous, but at the same time he did sound genuinely bewildered.

"I can't say I've ever had the opportunity before," she replied, closing her hand around the corner of the chair-back.

"You're not from here, are you?"

"Neither are you," the girl said simply.

"True enough." He folded his arms over his chest and Maeve returned to her seat on the ground. Feeling a little dizzy she flopped over onto her back, hands resting on her stomach. Loki glanced down at her and thought again how child-like she was. The naivety emanated from her like an aura. She was a wisp of a thing, drifting through the human world after ideals that he knew very well were false. For a split second he wished he could show her Asgard, before he shook the thought away. Humans were dull, brutish things. He was not one of them, he did not belong with them and he would do well to remember that. His incarceration on Midgard was a temporary situation. The sooner he found a way off this rock the better.

On the ground, Maeve had her eyes closed as she said dreamily,

"I tried reaching out to your namesake once. A long time ago. He never answered me though. I suppose I should consider that a good thing really." Loki arched an eyebrow.

"What did you want from him?"

"Nothing really. Just someone to speak to when I was a lone. A bit of a compulsion I had when in a dark place. My teacher slapped me and called me a stupid girl when he found out." She yawned, lifting one arm so it came to rest near her face, fingers curling in her hair. Loki looked away, back into the fire.

"He was probably right," he said, glowering into the flames.


	5. Chapter 5

Maeve stood under the shower, steaming water bouncing off her skin. It was a week since she'd found Loki and she'd learnt no more about him. He spent long periods of time sat watching her as she went about her day, sometimes asking questions about her, sometimes sitting in extended periods of silence to watch her doing the simplest of things, like changing the sheets on the bed. He rarely spoke but when he did it was often something that left her feeling slightly struck, as though he was gently plucking bits of deeply personal information from her. She found herself telling him about her childhood in Devon, of the day she arrived in America, lost and scared. He never gave anything back but she found herself glad of his company none the less. She'd spent so much time on her own and thought she had been happy, until she'd had a companion, albeit a bizarre one.

In the evenings they would sit by the fire pit, Maeve waiting patiently for him to speak to her. He spent much of the time looking up at the sky, something distracting him. But occasionally he would glance at her, regarding her quietly. At night she began sleeping outside in a deck chair rather than on the floor and all the while she took careful precaution not to ask anything about himself, instead hoping that with enough patience exercised on her part he would tell her something, some way she could help him better. But for now he remained a closed book.

Towelling herself off and dressing in the narrow wet room, she pulled on a vest and shorts, tying her hair in a messy bun before exiting. She grabbed her keys off the counter, swinging a shoulder bag's strap across her chest and padding down the kick step from her R.V. Outside Loki was idly fiddling with the pendant she'd given him, murmuring to himself. She gently touched his arm to break him from his reverie, saying;

"I have to drive up to town. Would you like to come with me?" He paused for a moment before giving her a silent nod then following her into the truck.

When they arrived in the small town she pulled up outside the grocery store, turning in her seat to look at Loki.

"I'll be half an hour, maybe a little more. Down that way is Main Street, if you want to take a look. There's a diner that does pretty good coffee, um, a bookstore, some general bits and bobs along the street." She reached into her purse, pressing a twenty dollar bill into his hand. He frowned but before he could protest she said, "Take it. I'll meet you back here in a bit."

Letting herself out of the car she leant down to smile at him through the open window.

"Try to stay out of trouble," she said, patting the rim of the window before turning and heading into the store.

Loki sat listlessly looking out of the window. For a while he watched people go up and down the street, idly going about their business. Leaving the softened piece of green paper in the key well under the handbrake he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath through his nose. Around him the sounds of daily human life were grating. These people, these… scurrying creatures. They had cost him so much.

Opening his eyes he let the breath out slowly, then felt his chest tighten as he saw someone, someone he couldn't believe he was seeing….

When Maeve got back to the car she found it was empty. No sign of Loki was to be seen.

* * *

In some lost dimension a behemoth creature sat atop a throne of stone so black it seemed to absorb all the cosmic light around him. At his feet a snivelling creature, hood pulled down low over his distorted face. The Other cowered as he drawled;

"He is weak, stripped of status and power. A flesh thing, as easily exterminated as an insect. But he is sheltering among the humans…"

The Titan steepled his fingers, resting them on his chin. Eyes glinting, he rumbled,

"He will bleed the Earth for us yet."

* * *

Loki stood watching him through the window, his heart racing. It was unmistakably him, the man who'd once been under his control, bent to his will. The man who had opened the portal between worlds.

Erik Selvig sat eating Chinese food in the middle of the lab with two women. He watched them for a moment, laughing and talking as they ate, pushing pieces of paper around the table to one another and comparing them animatedly. At first they simply didn't notice when he walked in, standing perhaps ten feet from them.

It was one of the women who noticed him first, the one he recognised as Thor's pet. She paused, fork dangling from her fingers as she looked up at him blankly.

"Um, hey?"

Erik glanced up, following her gaze and when his eyes fell on Loki he jumped back from the table as though he'd been electrocuted.

"Jane, Darcy, get out," he said softly, his face void of colour. The one called Jane slowly rose from her seat, frowning.

"Erik, what's-"

"Just get out!" She jumped as he yelled at her and gathering up the younger woman, they skittered out of the back of the lab. When they were gone Selvig said in a low voice,

"What the Hell are you doing here?"

Loki gave him a look that feigned innocence, replying,

"I just wanted to chat, Professor."

* * *

Maeve wandered up and down the street near her truck, occasionally running an agitated hand through her hair. She'd checked the diner and he hadn't been there, she'd walked the length of main street twice, then had returned to hovering near the truck. It had been half an hour since she'd got back and a small nagging in her chest was telling her he'd bailed on her.

* * *

"Even if I wanted to send you back, I couldn't. The Tesseract is gone, there is no way to open a portal."

Loki slammed his hands on the table, sending sheets of paper flying.

"You have to! I will not stay on this lump of rock!" he roared. A vein throbbed in his temple and pain shot through his ribs. Hissing, he brought one hand to his side, feeling a clammy sweat break on his brow. Selvig looked at him curiously, then said in a quiet voice,

"You don't have any power to threaten me, do you? You're human…"

The look that Loki gave him made his blood cool. It was filled with both loathing and desperation. When he spoke his voice was ragged;

"I cannot stay here…" The physicist slipped his hands into his pockets, trying to feign fearlessness, though his heart beat against his ribs.

"You don't have any choice. I can't send you back to Asgard and I wouldn't anyway. You will have to stay among the people you tried to exterminate and learn some humility. You're one of us now. An ant beneath a boot."

Loki looked up at him in silence and Selvig could almost feel something in him breaking. He seemed small and crumpled, a world away from the terrible Godly figure that had terrorized them before.

"You should go now," the scientist said, "Before I call our friends at S.H.I.E.L.D. I think you have much reason to fear them now." He was careful to keep his voice calm and even and it had the desired effect. The Asgardian had no argument left to make. Pulling himself up straight with teeth bared in discomfort, he walked out of the lab. Selvig watched him hesitate in the street before walking away towards the desert, his jaw set in anger and hurt.

After a few moments Jane and Darcy peered around the frame of the shutter door. Seeing the coast was clear they wandered tentatively into the lab.

"Who was that?" asked Jane.

"His name is Loki," Erik replied with a heavy sigh. "He was Thor's brother."

"Oh my God…" Jane breathed, starting to run out of the lab. He darted after her, snatching hold of her arm.

"Don't!" She span to face him, expression shocked. "That business in New York, he was the one responsible for that, all of it. He was the one who tried to kill Thor! You cannot follow him!" She looked stricken, trying to break free of his grip.

"But he might know the way to open the bridge!"

"He doesn't, Jane. He's trapped here. His people have abandoned him. That's why he came here, to find a way back. He's no more Asgardian now than you or I…"

The girl slumped in his hold, despondent. Selvig rubbed her arm, looking at her apologetically.

"There will be a way," he said gently. "In the meantime, we need to contact S.H.I.E.L.D, he's too dangerous to be simply wandering around like this."

Jane turned away, opening the lab door to cautiously peer up the street. A second later a girl skittered into the edge of the door, catching herself on it and scaring Jane out of her skin. The girl stumbled around the door, glancing up at Jane to gasp,

"Sorry, so sorry!" before sprinting up the street full pelt. Jane stared after her, arching an eyebrow at the girl's retreating tattooed back.

"Someone's in a hurry," she muttered before closing the door.

* * *

Maeve pounded down the street after Loki, tennis shoes slamming on the pavement. She'd only spotted him out of the corner of her eye, down the very end of Main Street. He was loping out of town blithely towards the desert. As she ran down the road she crashed into the edge of an opening door, stammering an apology as she skidded around it. As she caught up with Loki she closed a hand on his arm, inertia swinging her around so she came face to face with him. Laying her hands on his chest to stop him walking, she drew in a deep breath, pulse racing and looked up at him, saying breathlessly;

"Hey, where are you off to?"

He caught her hands roughly, pulling them away and held onto them with a firm grip. She flinched, stiffening. He looked down at her in a cocktail of anger, sorrow and fear, his eyes shining strangely.

"Oh God," whispered Maeve, "What happened?"

He didn't answer but his grasp on her fingers weakened, shoulders slumping.

"Come on," she said gently, undoing her hands from his and resting one of the small of his back to cautiously steer him. "We'll go back, it's alright. Let's go home."

Loki allowed himself to be led back to the truck, each step leaden. The drive back to the R.V passed in awkward silence, Maeve looking over at him every so often as he stared out of the window listlessly.. When they pulled up she turned off the ignition, engine ticking as it cooled.

"What are you running from?" she said finally. She swivelled in her seat to look at him, gaze level. When he didn't answer she sighed in frustration, getting out of the truck and slamming the door. She went up to the caravan without waiting for him, climbing inside and putting groceries away roughly. She was so angry she didn't even notice when he appeared in the doorway, saying softly;

"I am not running. I was sent away."

She turned slowly to look up at him, her face expressionless. He frowned slightly, gaze going through her as he continued.

"I was made to leave my home and told I could not return. I am no longer welcome among the people that were my family." Maeve tilted her head, leaning back on the counter.

"What did you do?" she asked gently. Loki shook his head, frown deepening.

"I would rather not go into the details of things. Suffice to say I hurt many people and now they will not have me."

The girl regarded him for a moment, giving him the same penetrating look he had given her many times.

"I'd like to know if you're going to bring trouble to my door," she said in an even tone. "I think I deserve that much." Loki shook his head slowly.

"There is no one left to care where I am or what becomes of me," he said, voice distant. Maeve chewed her bottom lip. He looked a miserable thing, floundering alone.

"I care," she said awkwardly. "Enough to offer my home to you."

Loki looked up at her with a thin smile.

"You do, don't you? I do not understand you at all, Maeve…" She turned away with an attempt at a nonchalant shrug, going back to unpacking groceries.

"A little kindness doesn't cost anything," she said. The Asgardian watched her, ivy leaves on her shoulder blade dancing as she moved.

"I hope not," he said softly.


	6. Chapter 6

**A quick thank you to those of you sweet enough to read and review this fic, I appreciate your time and feedback very much. Hopefully it will help me polish up things further and make for a better story :)**

In his distant dimension the Titan Thanos turned a jewel bedecked gauntlet in his hands, smiling to himself. There were a few sockets that had no stone, but he could be patient. Not long until it would be at the peak of its glory and then his work could begin.

* * *

Maeve shivered in the phone box as she dialled, stuffing a few quarters into the slot. It rang twice before she heard a soft 'click' and a gruff voice say,

"Hullo?" Warmth flooded her belly as she heard the comforting sound.

"Hi, Grey," she breathed, resting her back against the box's glass wall.

"Baby girl! 'Bout time. Little late for a call though, isn't it?" He didn't sound tweaked but Maeve felt guilty. It was after eleven at night.

"I know, I'm sorry," she said, contrite, "I've been pretty busy."

"Damn right you have. It's been over a week," he replied. "You said you'd call often."

"I will," Maeve said with a smile. "This will be the first of many calls."

"Hm. Smartass." He chuckled and she began to feel better.

"How's Molly?" she asked, twisting the cord around her wrist while feeding the phone more money.

"Fat as a house and costing me 'bout as much as a mortgage on one too."

She laughed, shaking her head. Grayson may moan, but the arthritic old Labrador was his baby and he doted on her. It broke his heart when she became too ill to come with him to the monthly meets anymore.

"What about you, honey? You ain't yourself, I can feel it from here." He took on that paternal tone and if she didn't know better she would have sworn she could feel fingers searching her brain, looking for secrets.

"I'm fine," she lied, "just tired."

"Did that fella get home ok?" She swallowed, passing the phone from one ear to the other, balancing it on her shoulder.

"Not yet…" she said timidly.

"Maeve Connor!"

"Don't do that! It's fine, he's no trouble."

"How do you know?" he snapped. "Maeve, it's not your responsibility to be a boarding house for total strangers!"

"You did it for me," she said, searching her purse for more coins.

"That was different. Me and your daddy went back. We was in the coven together for years…"

"It didn't account for me though, did it? I was just some kid that you were lumped with and felt sorry for." She was pushing buttons she knew would work. When her father had died his will had consigned Grayson as her legal guardian, though they'd never met. Thrust together by a nasty turn of fate, he'd taken to his fatherly role with gusto, though admittedly it had taken him a long time to learn about teenage girls.

"This is different," he said. Maeve pushed her last two quarters into the slot.

"Not really. I didn't have anywhere to go, neither does he."

Grayson sighed heavily down the phone.

"You always were a stubborn ass," he grumbled.

"I had a good example," she said with a low laugh. "Look, I'm out of money. We're going to get cut off in a second."

"Just promise me one thing before you go."

"Depends what it is."

"Don't let him hurt you. Somethin' feels wrong and I ain't ignoring it." There was an undercurrent of fear in his voice. Maeve cradled the phone under her chin, smiling gently.

"It's not going to happen," she said reassuringly. "But I promise I won't do anything feckless, if it makes you feel better."

"I love you, baby girl…"

"I love you too, Poppa Gray," she replied, using the old pet name. "Take care of yourself, I'll call you soon, I promise."

The phone cut off with a beep before he could finish saying something else, all she caught was;

"Don't get too atta-"

She hung up the receiver, buttoning up the baggy cardigan she was wearing, the hem so low it dangled midway down her thighs. She was cold and tired but she had needed that call.

When she pulled up to her R.V a little before one a.m she was shivering, her skin grey when she glanced at herself in the rear view mirror.. Her shoes were off before she'd even got to her door, letting herself in as quietly as possible. With the kitchenette light on dim her eyes could make out the crumpled form of Loki, fast asleep.

She sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at him and gently smoothing her hand over his hair. He looked almost ethereal, his pale skin luminescent. His bruises had faded to a slight grey sheen, the fine cuts he'd had when she first found him already healed. She sat for a while looking at him, idly stroking his hair and feeling herself falling asleep. Shuffling herself back to lean on the wall she crossed her legs, dozing fitfully

She dreamt of a frozen lake, Loki stood in the centre of it, features pinched. She called out to him but it was soundless and he looked at her without emotion. When she tried to step out the ice groaned and cracked beneath her feet and she fell through, jerking awake with a gasp.

Twitching a curtain to look blearily out of the window she saw the sun was coming up, the sky pale pink. She felt ill, her whole body aching with tiredness. Looking down she saw Loki was rolled on his side, still sleeping deeply. Unable to face the thought of going out to the deck chair, she carefully lay in the narrow gap between him and the wall, making herself as small as possible. Burying her face in the pillow she felt sleep pricking at her eyes, dropping off almost instantly.

When Loki awoke she was curled up in a foetal position, slack fingers lightly resting against his shoulder. Sitting up, he looked down at her, feeling a surprising pang of guilt. She looked so small and wan, her clothes swamping her frame. Gently tucking the blankets around her, her wondered how long she had been beside him and with another uncomfortable twinge noted this was the first time she'd slept in her own bed for days. These sorts of thoughts had not bothered him before. Once he had been a prince among Gods. Now he was mortal and these new worries were… disturbing.

Peering at Maeve he tried yet again to fathom why she had taken him in, gently touching her white fingers. He wouldn't admit it but he knew a fondness for her was growing deep within. She was human and frail, but also genuine, her kindness carrying no ulterior motive. She lived life as it pleased her and it did no harm to anyone.

He found himself smiling and abruptly got out of the bed, putting a few hurried feet between himself and the sleeping girl. He didn't like this. He was starting to forget who he was. He had been King of Asgard, he was not a pet.

He had to find a way back. Looking over at Maeve's altar, he tilted his head. Maybe she was the way.

* * *

Maeve slept until midday, waking up with a headache. She showered and made herself some tea, rubbing her forehead with some lavender oil before wandering outside. Loki was sat in a deckchair, book open in his lap. He was reading intently, a low breeze catching the tips of his hair the only movement. Maeve drew up beside him, peering over his shoulder. It was a book on Asatru magic.

"Runes, huh?" she said, taking a sip from her mug. "Seems fitting."

"How so?" he said, turning a page.

"Loki. Norse God of Mischief. Etcetera etcetera," she replied with a smile.

"Hm. Can you do these things?" he asked, his gaze flickering over the page.

"Some of them," she said. " It depends."

"On what?"

"How much blood the ritual needs." Loki blinked before looking up at her. She shrugged nonchalantly.

"Everything has it's price," she said. "The runes need blood to use them. Sometimes a fair bit."

"Why?" Loki asked in a low voice.

"Think of it this way; you wouldn't ask a tree to give up it's fruit and then refuse it rain would you?" she said, resting a hand on the back of his chair. "It's the same principle. An exchange, one form of power for another." She sat on the ground, crossing her legs. "Any other questions?"

"Why magic?" He peered down at her, palms resting on the pages of the book.

"I was born into it. My parents were witches, so were theirs. It's common for these things to be passed down. I don't suppose it's any different from Christian families raising Christian children."

"I suppose that principle is true for many things," said Loki wryly.

"Mmhm, I think so. It's just a form of nature versus nurture. Personally I think nurture wins out. We are what our upbringing makes us." She sipped her tea, a frown on Loki's brow. He lapsed into silence for several minutes until Maeve prompted him;

"Why the interest in the runes anyway?" He snapped out of his reverie, replying,

"Intellectual curiosity."

"Fair enough. I could show you, if you want?" she said, care-free enough. He arched a brow.

"Really?"

"Mmhm. Just something little, but yes. If you're interested. And not squeamish…"

"You will not… Injure yourself?" he said slowly.

"Not if I can help it," she said with a smile. "This evening. I prefer working with moonlight."


	7. Chapter 7

When the sun was setting Maeve set to work, dragging the chairs and garden furniture outside her gvan around to clear a wide space around the fire pit. She gathered various articles off her altar, setting them aside along with some fragrant smelling bundles of dry plants, a large bowl of salt, a plot of blood red powder and a black handled blade. Then she spent a good deal of time in the shower, more heady smells of herbs seeping through the cracks around the door in the steam. When she emerged she was dressed in cream linen trousers and a vest top, devoid of all jewellery, her hair loose and dangling down her back. Loki stood outside watching her as she lit a fire, wandering around shoeless as usual as she laid everything out on the ground carefully, then beckoned him over with a wave.

"I have a few rules," she said as she looked up at him. "The first, most important one is do not step out of the circle at any time. This sort of magic is very strong and it attracts attention. The second is don't touch anything unless I say. Third if that if you want to stop at any time, just say. Alright."

Loki nodded slowly.

"I understand," he said softly.

"Thank you. You might want to sit, we could be here a while."

He settled on the ground, forearms resting on his knees as he watched her silently. She picked up the salt, walking around the fire pit in a wide circle and pouring a stream of it on the ground as she went until they were fully enclosed. As she moved she chanted softly and when done with the salt she threw the bundles of herbs into the fire, sending billows of powerful smoke into the sky. Picking up the black hilted knife, she passed it through the smoke, the chanting gaining speed, and she moved round the space to stop at each compass point, raising her arms skyward each time, blade glinting.

Finally she knelt on the ground opposite him, her eyes catching the moonlight. Pulling the black stone pentacle over in front of her she muttered an invocation under her breath, then brushed her hair away from her face.

Loki rested his chin in his palm as he watched her., She seemed almost unaware of his presence as she worked. She was focused intently, tipping some of the crimson powder onto the disc along with salt again, some water from the chalice and a handful of dust from the ground beneath her. Then she picked up the ritual knife once more and taking a deep breath, pressed the tip into her palm, hissing softly through her teeth as she pierced the skin.

Loki almost grabbed her wrist to stop her as she drew the blade along her hand, making cut about an inch long. Rich, dark blood oozed forth, looking black in the moonlight. She held her hand over the pentacle, pumping her fingers until four of five fat drops had landed on the stone. Using her fingertips she mixed everything into a paste, then lifted a smouldering sprig out of the fire and touched it to the mixture. It sputtered, thin reeds of smoke rising from it for a moment as the dragon's blood powder burned. Once it was cooled she looked up at Loki, then held her hand out to him.

"Show me your palm," she said softly. He couldn't help but smirk slightly as he lay his hand in hers. She dipped her fingertip in the paste, then bent her head low to concentrate. She traced a rune onto his palm carefully, her touch feather-light, occasionally dabbing more paste onto her finger. When it was done she whispered almost inaudibly over it;

"Algiz. Maeve wrote this and so it is done…"

For a second Loki thought his suspicions had been confirmed, that it would do nothing, before he suddenly felt the symbol burn white hot. Instinctively he tried to jerk away but Maeve held onto his hand, her voice gentle as she said,

"Wait, wait, it's alright."

The warmth spread rapidly from his palm, up his arm and over his whole body. He felt light headed, his vision blurring, drunk on the spell. Trying to focus, he could almost see the sigil giving off a pale red luminescence. He slumped forwards and Maeve caught him by the shoulders, carefully lowering him to lay down.

"It's alright, just breathe slowly. You just need grounding," she said softly, guiding him to lay with his forehead on the ground. She threw the rest of the paste into the fire, then rubbed the pentacle with dust to clean away the residue. Then she lay beside Loki, taking his hand. They remained still and silent for a long time, the fire growing lower, flames falling to deep red embers. Eventually he managed to turn his head and look at her, small and white on the ground, her hair fanning out around her.

"What did you do?" he asked in a thin voice.

"I put you under my protection," she said with a warm smile. "Just rest for a little while. You'll stop feeling peculiar in a bit, promise. I'm going to close the circle, alright?"

He twitched his head in a nod and she stood up, moving round the fire pit again. He couldn't focus on what she was doing and found himself drifting in and out of consciousness. It felt like only a few seconds had passed when she knelt over him, gently guiding him up and to his feet, back to the R.V. He was sat on the end of the bed and she put a piece of bread into hands, encouraging him to eat with the promise it'd make him feel better. He did so obediently while she pottered in the kitchen. By the time she came back with a mug of overly sweet tea, he was indeed feeling more clear headed and when she sat down beside him, he looked at her with fresh eyes.

"I did not expect that," he said in a near whisper.

"It's quite an aggressive form of spell casting. I had to practice a lot before I felt so much as a tingle." She sipped her drink and he looked down at the mark on his palm, already starting to rub off as it dried.

"Protection. You think that I will need it?" he asked.

"It doesn't hurt to have it. I know so little about you, Loki. I honestly have no idea if you need it or not." She let out a small sigh and he glanced up at her, closing his fist. It was true. She had given blindly, everything he'd asked she'd answered, now she had even worked her magic for him. He had given nothing back. He was not accustomed to feeling obliged, but it was inescapable. He had to give her something.

"I used to have an elder brother," he muttered, tapping one finger on the outside of his mug. "We fought and do not speak anymore. I spent many years resenting him, living in his shadow. But he was my brother and life is not the same anymore…"

Maeve gazed at him, giving him a small, sympathetic smile.

"I'm sorry," she said gently.

"It is alright. It was not your fault, was it?" He swallowed, realising he genuinely meant it. He had spent so long blaming the human race as a collective for so much of his pain. But in truth, it had not been Maeve's fault. She was so far removed from his perception of them. She seemed an outside even amongst her own people, content to live in the wilds, basically a hermit. She also had genuine power and knowledge he had not expected. It was a mixture of feelings he was met with as he considered whether she had the power to send him home…

Maeve drained her mug and set it aside, then encouraged Loki to lay down, saying,

"You should probably sleep. You might have pretty bizarre dreams, just as a warning." She knelt beside the bed, resting her arms on it, hands folded. They looked at each other for a long time until Loki felt his eyes growing heavy. As he fell into sleep, he register somewhere in the back of his consciousness that she kissed his forehead gently…

* * *

Director Fury stood before his digital array, swiping through screens, searching. Professor Selvig had been right, Loki had been in New Mexico. A brief image of him in the street with a woman had shown up on a security camera outside the town's bank. He'd dredged through hours of video, trying to get a better look. But he'd essentially become invisible. Damn small town life… He needed more to go on but there were only three cameras in the whole of town.

He decided to turn to the girl instead. When the image had been cleaned up they'd got a good scan of her face, revealing her identity as one Maeve Connor, twenty two years old, originally of Ireland. Soon he was able to filter though her entire history, right down to school report cards and dental appointments. Then, about eighteen months ago, she'd dropped off the grid.

This would not do. He'd have to start filtering things down.

* * *

Thor stood on the Bifrost before Heimdall, his hand closed around Mjolnir's hilt.

"You are sure?" he asked, his deep voice underlined with concern. The Way Watcher nodded slowly.

"I felt magic around your brother, old magic that the mortals have largely forgotten."

"We may have trouble on our hands…" the Thunder God muttered.

"My thoughts, too."

"Leave this in my hands," said Thor, pulling his cloak about his shoulders. "Perhaps he can be stopped before any harm is done."

* * *

Loki walked through the chambers of his father's halls, Maeve beside him. She was dressed in cornflower blue velvet, the same as her eyes, that cascaded to her feet and as Loki took her arm and led her onto a balcony, he thought how she looked every inch a Goddess. They stood together, she taking in the awesome grandeur of the world that lay before her, her cheeks turning pink as she was almost overwhelmed. Loki touched her bare shoulder, tracing an ivy leaf and whispering,

"You belong here," in her ear, her silken hair brushing his face.

She looked up at him with those large eyes and he thought what bliss it would be to remain in this moment forever, beyond the reach of life's evils, just gazing at her sweet face for the rest of his days. He reached to touch her cheek, wanting to draw her closer, when he began to hear her say his name without moving her lips.

"Loki. Loki…"

Something was wrong. He began to lose focus on her, the world around them suddenly seeming paper thin and distant. He tried to cling onto it but her voice was growing louder and it was all becoming further away-

"Loki!"

His eyes opened abruptly, the dream shattered. She was leant over him, one hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. He felt a pang in his chest, both at the loss of the dream and the dream itself. She looked down at him and as his vision cleared he saw something was wrong with her. Her eyes were bloodshot. Face streaked with tear tracks. He jerked upright with a hiss of pain as his ribs reminded him they were not done healing yet. Instinctively he caught her hands, feeling them tremble.

"What has happened?" he asked, an unfamiliar knot of concern in his stomach. Her voice was cracked as she answered;

"Someone very important to me has fallen ill. I have to go to Utah." She looked ready to crumble. He lay a hand on her shoulder, guiding her to sit beside him. She swallowed, fighting not to cry again.

"I'll be a few days, I'm sorry, she mumbled, wiping her face with the heel of her hand. "I don't even have a cell phone to leave with you…" She hung her head and he wound his arm around her back as she choked for a moment.

"It's alright," he said softly, "do not worry for me."

There was a low knock on the door and a plump woman with a bubble perm and red cheeks stuck her head around, smiling guiltily at the pair.

"Sweetie, we need to head now it we're going to make it to the hospital in time to see him tonight," she said in a thick Southern accent Maeve gave him a tiny nod, then to his surprise threw her arms around Loki's shoulders, embracing him tightly and saying almost inaudibly;

"Please don't leave while I'm gone." He awkwardly hugged her back, whispering,

"I won't. I promise," before gently pushing her away to her feet and standing with her. He led her to the dumpy woman, noticing she was in her autumn years and practically radiated maternal energy. He felt very glad that Maeve was going with her. Steering the girl into her large hands, he watched the two get into an unfamiliar station wagon. When the doors were closed Maeve put her face in her palms, the older woman rubbing her back with one hand while using the other to turn the wheel and pull the car away. He watched until they were a pinprick in the horizon, vanishing into the blur between land and sky, then stood for a long time under the R.V awning, feeling nauseous and alone.


	8. Chapter 8

**Another big thank you to those who have been sweet enough to review. It's very kind of you and nice to knwo people are reading :)**

Thanos carefully slotted a luminescent red gem into a socket of the Infinity Gauntlet, grinning to himself. As it fixed into place it hummed for a moment and he reclined in his throne, admiring his work. Only one left. Just one and he would be ready.

* * *

A blue dossier was passed into Director Fury's hands, the cover blank. He gave a single nod of thanks before taking it back to his desk. Opening the file his eyes fell on a list of names and numbers in deceptively plain text. The first read 'Stark. T.' With a deep breath, Fury clipped a Blue Tooth ear piece on, then pressed a few digits into a pad built into the desk and waited patiently, listening to the dial tone.

* * *

Maeve stood outside the ICU room, hand resting on the window pane. Inside Grayson was wired up to breathing apparatus, observation monitors and drips, swamped by the medical machinery. He had always been a fit man, looking nearer to fifty than seventy and lived clean. But even that hadn't been enough. The heart attack had been massive. On the way across state, Bonita, the motherly woman who'd driven her, had told her it was a miracle her was alive. The Gods must have been watching him.

Quietly padding into the room, she sat down in a hard, high-backed chair beside the bed. Taking his grey, frigid hand, she spoke to him softly, too numb to cry anymore.

"Gray? Gray, it's me. I came as soon as I could."

His eyes fluttered open, moist and empty, and she smiled gently, stroking his face.

"Hey, Poppa," she breathed, "How you doing?"

He turned his dazed gaze towards her, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled weakly.

"Baby girl…" he croaked.

"You've kicked up a right fuss, you old trouble maker," she said with a weak laugh.

"You know me, honey, never do things by halves." He squeezed her hand a little, taking a laboured breath. "Don't you worry though, I'll be outta here in no time."

"Don't you dare rush yourself," the girl said sternly. "You need to take care of yourself."

"Where would I be without my l'il Mab to boss me around?" he said with a strained smile.

"Probably having the time of your life." She forced a smile in return. "You just enjoy being a slacker. I'll take care of Molly and everything else."

Grayson looked up at her, his features hollow. His expression grew serious, his eyes sunken, frightening her.

"I love you so much, Maeve. I need you to know. You're my little girl and I love you so, so much."

"I love you too, Poppa," she whispered, eyes burning from the threat of tears. "Just get better for me, ok?" He let go of her hand, reaching over to cup her cheek in his weathered palm.

"I'll do my best."

* * *

It had been three days since Maeve had left. Loki spent most of the time reading her books on magic or when he grew weary or frustrated by this he walked in the desert, taking care not to stray too far. Sometimes he would simply sit outside the van, looking out at the road in the distance in the hopes he might see the forest green station wagon appear, but there was only the shimmering mirages caused by the heat, gelatinous mirrors that weren't really there.

On the third night he built a fire in the iron pit as he'd watched Maeve do many times and sat beside it in the deck chair. During the day he'd spent some time carefully selecting a few stones from the desert, finally settling on one that was dove grey and powdery to the touch. Then he'd dug around Maeve's drawers until he'd found a pocket knife. He'd spent over an hour rubbing the blade with a cloth to gain the sharpest edge possible.

Now he sat with it in front of the fire, clutching the stone firmly in his palm. Frowning in concentration he began to scratch into it slowly. He would finally have something to give Maeve in return for everything she'd done for him when she came back.

He worked until the fire died back to deep crimson embers and he had no more light except that from the waxing moon. He turned the stone over in his hands, inspecting his work. It was starting to take some form, a visible head and shoulders. As he was hoping he'd have enough time to finish it, he heard a familiar voice that made his stomach drop.

"Hello, brother."

Loki looked up slowly, his face twisted in a scowl. Thor was stood beside the iron pit, dressed plainly but looking resplendent none the less, his hammer as always resting at his hip. He looked down at Loki with a sorrowful smile, extending his hand towards him. The fallen God remained seated.

"What do you want?" he said coldly.

"Just to talk. Where is the mortal?"

"Far away from here." Loki felt some primal beast begin to stir in his chest at the mention of Maeve.

"I understand she is a magic worker?" the Thunder God said, crossing his powerful arms over his chest.

"Make your point."

"I know she has worked magic for you. Heimdall felt her influence on you." He paused, looking down at his brother. "She has some skill, apparently. I come to you with a simple request. Do not use her to try and exact revenge on our father."

"Your father," Loki hissed. "You can call me brother as many times as you please, it does not make it so."

Thor shook his head, looking at the other Asgardian appealingly.

"I know you do not care for the mortals. I would rather you were anywhere but here, believe me, for you as much as them," he said, pacing again. "But the girl is innocent. Do not make her part of this."

Loki rose to his feet, temple twitching with rage.

"I would not touch a hair on her head," he growled, each word sharp and filled with disdain. Thor looked back at him calmly.

"I hope not," he said. "You have opportunity here. A chance to learn."

"Do not be sanctimonious with me, you narcissistic bairn!" Loki drew himself up until there was only a couple of inches between himself and Thor. "You think because you played at being human for a few days before being cupped back to the All Father's bosom, you have the right to lecture me? I would sooner kill you than lay a finger on Maeve and sleep well thereafter too!"

They stood staring at one another for a long moment, the air electric. Thor sighed again heavily, resting his hand on the back of Loki's neck.

"I miss my brother," he said mournfully. Loki glared back at him vehemently and he shook his head before turning away, vanishing in a blink. The fallen Asgardian stood glowering at the space where he had been, heart hammering. Gripping the stone in his hand so tightly his knuckles blanched, he found himself not for the first time wishing that Maeve was there…

* * *

Fury greeted Romanoff with a nod as she stepped down from the helicopter. She looked at him with almond shaped eyes, her full lips pursed.

"Are you sure it's him?" was the first thing that she said. Fury nodded.

"We're starting to pin him down. Not there yet but with a little more time we will," he replied as he walked with her across the hangar deck.

"Do we know how the woman is connected yet?" She was all business.

"No. Perhaps she's a hostage, or a contact from his time here before. Her records are squirrelly." He clasped his hands behind his back as he walked. "Don't worry, Agent Romanoff. When we find him, he'll be dealt with accordingly."

"Oh, I know," the woman replied. "I'm here to ensure that, director."

* * *

A week is a long time when spent alone, especially so when plagued by unwanted thoughts. Loki began to spend an obsessive amount of time working on the effigy he was making, mainly to try and provide himself with a distraction. Thor's appearance, the dream he had about Maeve before she left, the magic she had worked…

The way that she had wept when the car had pulled away….

He was steadily feeling more lost, more desperate for things to be as they once were. He found himself craving emotional consistency. At least when vengeance had been his only course he'd had that much.

Carefully he polished the small stone figurine with a chamois he'd found under Maeve's kitchen sink. The soft leather was bringing a gloss to the stone, revealing films of colour he had not expected when he'd chosen it. Touches of amber and green were visible if you turned it in a certain light, adding depth to the carefully shaped folds of robes.

He couldn't help but admire his own work. He had not made anything by his own hand, without the aid of magic, since he was a boy. There was some pride to be had in this. The time and care that had been invested in it… He had done his best to keep the facial features generic, bearing little resemblance to his own, but the rest was detailed down to the buckles on the boots and fine creases in leather clothing.

He polished until it has a shine like glass, then spent the rest of the evening looking out at the horizon, until the sun set and he didn't have enough light to watch anymore. With a sigh he got to his feet, retreating to the R.V. Maybe tomorrow would be the day.

When he slept, it was fitful, his dreams vivid pictures of Maeve being consumed by Chitauri fire, her eyes looking out from the licking flames accusingly…

He woke just before four, chest tight and skin damp with a clammy sweat, slowly becoming aware of a presence beside him. Rolling onto his back, he looked up to see Maeve sitting on the edge of the bed, smiling down at him gently. She looked pale and thin, the last few days having taken their toll, but as she touched her fingertips to his, Loki thought that he had never seen anything so lovely. He sat up and pulled her into his chest, burying his face in her hair and she slumped her weight against him, exhausted.

"I missed you," she said simply. He remained silent but after a few moments fell back onto the bed, pulling her with him and curled himself around her protectively. She lay cradled in his arms with eyes closed, deep shadows cast across her face. She slept swiftly and Loki lay looking at her for a long time, murmuring,

"I'm sorry," occasionally under his breath.

* * *

The next day began in silence, Maeve changing the bedding and pottering with odd jobs around the van, lost in her own thoughts, still looking run through the mill. Loki hung near her like a shadow, leaving her to her quiet but wanting to reassure himself she was really there. She looked older than when she'd left and he found himself worried for her.

In the late afternoon she finally spoke, asking to check his ribs. As he sat on a stool while she cut away the bandaging she'd bound his chest with, he couldn't help himself;

"Who was ill?" he asked as she rubbed her hands together to warm them before carefully palpating his side.

"His name is Grayson," she replied without looking up. "He's sort of my father, and my teacher, but he's also my dearest friend."

"Is he well now?" Loki pulled his arm across his chest so she could have better access to his torso.

"He's not in any immediate danger. He yelled at me to stop fussing and come home, so I suppose he's doing ok." She tapped her fingers lightly on his ribs a couple of times. "You're healing really well. No heavy lifting or anything strenuous for a while longer and you'll be right as rain."

Loki pulled his shirt back on, leaning forward to look at her eye to eye.

"You are still worried about him," he said softly.

"I am, yes," she sighed, falling back to sit on her heels. "Heart attacks are serious enough, but he's not a young man by any means. And he's all the family I have left…" Her gaze lapsed to the ground and she traced a fingertip in the dust, making swirls and spirals.

"He's insisting on coming here next week. I said no but he wouldn't listen," she murmured. "I think we're both feeling his mortality…" She sounded totally despondent. Loki frowned, then got to his feet.

"Wait here a moment," he said and ducked into the van. When he came back he took her hand and pulled her up, pushing something cold into her palm.

"You told me that you tried to speak to the God Loki once but he did not hear you," he said gently. "I am sure that he will now and keep you and your father in his care…"

Maeve looked down at the stone figurine she was holding, small and ornate. It was a man clothed in robes and armour, cloak swaying at his heels, two curved horns protruding from his helm. She smiled, brushing her thumb over the face, feeling the slope of the nose and crease of his lips, her eyes prickling.

"It's beautiful," she breathed.

"It is yours," he replied, closing her fingers around the statuette. "He will listen better to you now." She looked up at him, her eyes shining glassily.

"I… I missed you as well," he said awkwardly by way of explanation.

Later he saw Maeve press a kiss to the statuette's forehead tenderly before placing it proudly in the centre of her altar and smiled to himself quietly, feeling a small surge of pleasure.


	9. Chapter 9

**Another huge thank you for the lovely comments people have left recently. It was very sweet of you and to be honest, I was very surprised that anyone showed an interest at all, so to have such lovely comments was really kind. To those of you who are eager for me to update, I just want to let you know, the story is actually finished in a hand written version, so I promise not to just trail off and leave it half done. All I need to do is find the time to type it all up hehe. But thank you again, guys, have another chapter :)**

"We found her in Lakeview Hospital in Utah." Fury was handing photographs round to the group at the table. Stark, the Captain, Romanoff and Barton, even Banner had answered the summons. Rogers picked up a matte photo that slid across the table towards him, peering at a still from a hospital security camera.

"She's not there now, by the time we intercepted the tapes she'd already left. But we did retrieve the records of one Grayson Phillips, admitted ten days ago with cardiac arrest," the Director continued as he paced around the table. "Miss Connor was there for him. We get him, we get her, we get Loki."

Steve frowned at the photo. The girl was young and looked drawn as she sat at an elderly man's bedside, her fingers laced through his.

"She's just a kid…" he muttered, brows knitted.

"She may well be harbouring a fugitive," Romanoff countered. "Her bank statement showed credit card purchases for men's clothing totalling over seventy dollars, within days of the footage of them in Puente Antiguo."

"That doesn't prove anything," Rogers said, looking up at Natasha with clear disapproval.

"True," interjected Fury, "but it is a start. Don't worry, Captain. If Miss Connor is innocent of any criminal behaviour, she'll be treated as such. But we do believe she is the key to finding Loki. All we need is for Phillips to lead us to her."

* * *

Grayson sat propped up in his bed, rolling his eyes as Bonita fussed over him, straightening his pyjama collar, tugging his sheets tight and smoothly whipping his beloved hat off his head.

"Lady," he grumbled, snatching the Stetson back and tugging it on, "I ain't dead yet. And if you carry on coddlin' me I shall be forced to call hospital security."

"Oh hush up with your whinin', Gray," she said firmly as she tucked the covers so tight he felt like he was being swaddled. "I promised Maeve I would take good care of you and if you're intendin' to see her at full moon, you'd darn well better put up with me." She plumped his pillows, helping him sit more upright and took his hat off again, ignoring his noises of protest. Eventually he sat eating lime jello out of a polystyrene cup, grumbling occasionally while Bonita sat reading one of those trashy true life magazines, when there was a soft knock.

The pair looked up to see a breathtakingly beautiful woman with rich auburn hair, dressed in smartly tailored business-wear standing in the doorway. She gave Grayson a perfect smile, stepping into the room and extending a lily white hand to him.

"Mr Phillips, my name is Natasha Romanoff, I work for an association known as S.H.I.E.L.D. I wonder if I might have a few minutes of your time?"

* * *

"We've got her," said Fury, pausing a recording of an aerial swoop of the desert near Puente Antiguo town. A small white smudge on the screen marked a solitary R.V among the expanse of stone and sand, just as Phillips had described.

The old man had been yellow and clammy by the time Romanoff had left. She'd tried not to panic him but it was clear he cared about Maeve deeply and she had frightened him. She'd told him she was just trying to find Loki as a concerned colleague, but he wasn't buying it.

That night when he thought S.H.I.E.L.D were no longer watching, Grayson had discharged himself from the hospital, the plump woman helping him into her station wagon. They were tailing him now. They knew he would lead them right to the Connor girl's door and from there on it should be simple enough.

Fury thumbed through the aerial photos, seeing the small pinprick that represented the girl clearly visible against the silvery ground. He would have to proceed with caution. As Rogers had pointed out, she was a kid, who may yet be innocent in all of this. Add that to the fragility of the Phillips man… After what had happened in New York if anyone got hurt in this instance, it would be at the very least a P.R nightmare…

He picked up the photo of Maeve from the still of the hospital's security tape. She looked small and a little sickly as she sat by the bed. It would be interesting to hear how she had ended up involved with someone like Loki.

* * *

Maeve stood outside in the afternoon sun at the white PVC table, turquoise gypsy skirt swaying in the breeze. She was weaving stalks of corn together carefully, a huge sheaf on the table in front of her, shaping them into small dollies, simple stick figures perhaps four inches high. As she finished each one she lay it in a basket and when it was full she settled into a chair and began braiding more stalks into a circle, slowly building up the layers into an ornate wreath.

Loki sat watching her silently, head tilted in curiosity. When she had woven it to a couple of inches thick she began to wind scarlet ribbon around it in a spiral, binding it together and using the edge of a scissor blade to curl the dangling excess into loose ringlets.. Then, when it was finally finished she began working on another, larger one, the sunlight on her skin turning golden as the afternoon crept on. She began to sing to herself under her breath as she worked, clearly enjoying herself, some folk melody about a man named John Barleycorn.

Loki got to his feet to stand beside her as she wove, watching over her shoulder.

"What is all this for?" he asked in the end, helping himself to one of the dollies and turning it over in his hands to inspect it.

"It's Lughnasadh in a few days," Maeve answered as she wound gold silk ribbon around the larger wreath. "Everyone in our coven always come out here for ritual. And it's a big one this time, a Sabbat. One of the eight festival days marking the turning of the year," she added as she looked up at him with a smile. She held the wreath up to check her work, carefully plucking at a few ears of corn to ensure it was properly secure, then gathered everything up, Loki following her to watch as she lifted her altar cloth, revealing a cupboard door underneath. With care she lay the dollies and wreaths inside, then shut the door, smoothing down the cloth over it and affectionately brushing her fingers over the antlers of the God statue as she stood again, flashing Loki a warm smile.

"One job down," she said with a low laugh.

Over the next couple of days she became progressively busier, working almost incessantly. While it was still cool in the morning she baked bread plaited into the shape of corn ears and gingerbread, rising to begin before Loki woke, so the first thing that greeted him in the morning were the smells of flour and spices. Several times she drove to town and back, bringing home copious amounts of food and one afternoon the back of her Chevy was filled with split logs of wood that he helped her unload, though she protested many times. Sure enough that evening his torso ached with every breath he took and Maeve sat his feet, tending to him with one of her steaming herbal preparations and a sponge while she told him more about the upcoming harvest festival and the other feast days that marked the Wheel of the Year.

On another cool evening she went walking in the desert as the sun was setting, Loki joining her, gathering handfuls of tiny white desert flowers as well as bush scrub for kindling and the following morning a rugged barrel of a man pulled up outside the R.V in a delivery van emblazoned with 'Harvey's Brewery', unloading cardboard boxes that clinked when he set them down outside the caravan.

In the evenings Loki ha to insist that she rested, physically steering her to sit in front of the fire pit with her crocheted blanket around her shoulders. Since she'd come back from Utah he felt a more pressing need to be honest with her, at least as much as he was able to. He told her sketchy stories of his childhood exploits with Thor, playing tricks on his family and their friends, always careful to omit any details that would make him seem anything other than human. She would rest her cheek in her hand, smiling warmly as he spoke and he found himself gradually smiling in return, impish but genuine.

At night she took to clambering onto the narrow bed beside him, squeezing against the wall and abandoning the deck chair outside. Sometimes he would wake to find her forehead resting on his upper arm or her fingers curled in the tips of his hair. At first he'd considered getting up, but eventually he would always drop off again, finding her presence beside him a better sleeping aid than any valerian.

When she worked during the day he would mostly spend his time avidly reading her magic books, still searching for a way to return to Asgard. He did find a complex spell that would supposedly summon a God's presence into a ritual circle, which he was sure he could change with his knowledge of sorcery so that it's effects could be reversed. It was a stretch, but still a chance. But as he watched Maeve simply going about her day, occasionally waving to him with a warm smile as she hung out washing to dry, or accidentally smudging bread flour over her face, he began to feel the desperation fade a little. He couldn't picture a life on Midgard, but at the same time when he thought of leaving her behind, he did feel a definite twinge. Without intending to he had grown to care for her, it was undeniable. He found himself starting to entertain the idea of taking her with him…

The evening before Lughnasadh they sat beside the fire together, Maeve stretching her bare legs out in the warmth.

"There's going to be a lot of people here tomorrow," she said, breaking the quiet night air. "Are you going to be alright?" Loki nodded, giving her one of his rare smiles.

"I will behave," he said.

"I didn't mean that," said Maeve, brushing her hand through her hair.

"I know," he replied, leaning her heads towards her. "You will be there, yes?"

"Of course."

"Then I will be alright."

She smiled at him, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap. Loki found his eyes straying to the tattoos on her collar bones, then back to her face, fingers itching to brush away a fine stray curl that had fallen over her eye.

"Grayson will be here," she said softly, trying to force the conversation. "He's going to keep me on my toes."

"If I can help…"

"It's alright. I'll manage. I do every month." She laughed, shaking her head. "I must be a sucker for punishment."

"Could they not go somewhere else sometimes?" Loki asked, a crease in his brow.

"It's sort of tradition for them to come here for esbats and sabbats now," she answered. "Actually, the night I found you they were here. They had already left when you woke up." She pulled one leg up to her chest, resting her chin on her knee, peering up at him. "It feels odd to think you've been here for a month…"

"Have I overstayed my welcome?" he said, the frown deepening.

"No, no, no," she replied quickly, "it's just… I don't know. I don't know what I'm saying." She rubbed her shoulder idly, still looking at him searchingly.

"Are you happy here, Loki?" she asked. He arched an eyebrow, looking at her in surprise. She had caught him off guard with that one. "It's just, well you have been with me a while now and you said you didn't have anywhere else to go. I was just wondering if you were happy here…"

Loki broke her gaze, staring into the fire. It should not have been a difficult question to answer. The truth was he knew he cared for Maeve, he had felt her absence like a dull throb deep in his chest. The life she had shared with him was simple and innocent, without agenda. In his time with her, he had felt his anger lesson, he had found some short periods of peace, even happiness, yes. But Asgard was his home. Could he be happy with her? Was he happy now? Could he forgo the life he had known before and simply be content here, in this moment?

He looked back at Maeve and the expression upon her face told him he'd taken too long to answer. There was a brief flicker of hurt in her eyes and she was moving to get up, saying in a low voice,

"It's a long day ahead tomorrow, I should go to bed…"

He snatched out, taking hold of her hand to stop her and pull her back to the ground. As she sat back on her heels, he met her eyes, saying gently,

"Yes. I am happy here."

She gave him a faint smile and he could feel her squeezing his fingers just a little.

"It really is going to be a long day," she said in a soft voice. Loki nodded, slowly releasing her hand.

"Sleep. I will remain here," he said, folding his hands over his knee. She climbed up into the R.V, turning in the doorway to look back at him. He had returned to staring into the fire in that habitual, hypnotized way he had.

"Don't stay out here all night," she called gently before ducking inside. He continued looking into the flames in silence, thinking to himself it would be much better for her if he did.


	10. Chapter 10

**Phew, mad night last night! I woke up to so many lovely responses, I couldn't believe my eyes. Thank you all of you very much. Oh and Southern Facade, I think 'saccharine' is my new favourite word hehehe.**

The next morning was a whirlwind of activity. Right from as early as six a.m, people began to converge on Maeve's small R.V in their own mobiles homes, ranging from massive Winnebagos down to a lavishly painted gypsy caravan. Maeve herself ran from one to the other, greeting everyone with hugs and steaming mugs of coffee, yellow and green sundress vibrant in the august sun, bare feet flitting between people. By nine, someone had set up a barbecue and the smell of bacon and toasting bread filled the air, Maeve looking in her element as she flipped the sizzling food, offering rolls to eager, grabbing hands of children that ran away giggling to sit in the shade and eat.

Just before midday an impressive navy blue Itasca pulled up, squeezing it's way into the ring of caravans. When the door opened and the steps were lowered, the plump woman called Bonita dismounted first, followed by a still fragile looking Grayson, his hat pulled low over his eyes.

Abandoning the barbecue, Maeve ran to him, winding her bare arms around his chest and hugging him for a long moment. Loki sat in the doorway of her R.V, watching quietly as she looked up at the old man, pushing the rim of his hat up to see him better. She was smiling brightly as she spoke to him, taking his arm to steer him down into a sturdy camping chair and he pulled her close, she leaning over so he could mumble something to her. She nodded, then pressed a loving kiss on his bristled cheek and set him up with an iced tea and a bowl of fruit salad.

As the early afternoon crept on, Bonita helped Maeve feed everyone, the clucking woman fussing over her too, occasionally forcing her to stop and sip some cold water, her freckled cheeks flushed pink from heat and exertion. Around two p.m the six or seven children that had been weaving their way between people were sat down, Maeve giving each of them one of the corn dollies she'd made before. That sat happily decorating them with ribbons and beads and the wildflowers she'd picked, while their parents knelt to rub them with sun block and chatter idly about grade school. On the outset it would have looked like a perfectly normal camping holiday and on the fringe Loki observed it all in silence, taking in the nuances of natural human life.

Eventually Maeve came over to him, kneeling before him with her hands resting on his knees.

"There is someone I'd like you to meet," she said with a cautious smile. Already knowing where this was heading, he nodded, allowing her to take him by the hand and lead him over to Grayson. As they approached the old man got to his feet, drawing himself to his full height. He looked at Loki with cool steel blue eyes as the girl introduced him, stiffly holding out a calloused hand as he said abruptly,

"I hauled your behind into Maeve's van. I'm surprised you're still here." Loki took his hand, gripping it firmly as he returned the elder's gaze levelly.

"I was invited to stay," he said, each word carrying a touch of curtness. He could feel Maeve shrinking between them.

"Yeah, that's my girl. When she was a kid it was cats and corn snakes," Grayson replied slowly. He was simmering. Maeve put her hand on his arm, steering him to let go of Loki's hand, the air prickling.

"Stop it," she whispered with a frown. "Don't do this today. I said I would talk to you tomorrow…" She prized his arm away, leading Grayson back to his seat and lowering him back into it. As she did her gaze flickered up to Loki and she gave him an apologetic smile. He nodded to assure her it was alright. If he had been her father, he would not be impressed by a stranger's extended stay either.

Later in the afternoon the children were changed, dressed prettily in dresses and smocks of reds, golds and oranges and Maeve, along with their parents, led them out of the circle of caravans into a clear space. Each of the children clutched their corn dollies tightly in pudgy hands as they walked and Loki leant against the back of Maeve's R.V with his arms folded to watch. He recognized the familiar sight of Maeve marking a circle with salt, then each of the children were encouraged to sit in their parents' laps on the ground. She settled in the centre of the group with one of those sweet, bright smiles, leaning forward as she began tom tell them a story. Loki tilted his dark head as he listened. It was about John Barelycorn, from Maeve's song before. In the version she spun it rhymed, making the whole venture sound innocent enough, describing a metaphor for the harvest each year. He found himself smiling as she led the children to sing a chant;

"Lughnasadh is the life and the death of the Corn King,

Lughnasadh, life and rebirth of the Corn King."

It was a simple, innocent ritual and as Loki watched, Maeve encouraged each of the children to give their dollies a kiss and say thank you. Afterwards she handed each of them a gingerbread man, insisting they ate before they got up to play. As she sucked a smudge of icing off her thumb her gaze flickered up and she gave Loki a brief smile before a little girl in a puffy red dress clamoured into her lap, insisting she gave her corn dolly a kiss.

"I don't know who the Hell you are, but I know you're trouble."

Loki was snapped out of his reverie by Grayson laying a tight gripping hand on his shoulder. For a man who'd recently been at death's door he was surprisingly strong. Loki turned around to look at him face to face, feeling a swirl of defensive anger in his stomach.

"You're attracting attention," Grayson continued, "and if you bring any hurt to Maeve, I will personally kick the crap outta you. People have been asking questions and I will not have Maeve dragged down with you."

Loki felt a surge of adrenaline, steering Grayson out of Maeve's view, hissing under his breath;

"What questions? Who has gotten to you?" The old man snarled, leering at him.

"They called themselves S.H.I.E.L.D. And they really want to know where you are. They came to my damn hospital room!" His face was turning bright red, breathing erratic. Loki felt a surprising twinge of concern. If he became ill again, Maeve would be destroyed. He lay his hands on the older man's shoulders, saying softly,

"Calm down. Your heart."

Grayson took a few deep breaths. Shaking his head. Loki could feel loathing emanating from him, but none the less he knew he was right. Finally he said in his Southern drawl,

"If you have any respect for Maeve, for what she's done for you, don't hurt her. You need to go and take this away with you."

Loki looked at him, at the desperation in his eyes. If S.H.I.E.L.D came here they would punish Maeve for his actions, he knew they would. Guilty by association and there was so much he was guilty of…

He gazed down at Grayson, feeling all of the misery which had begun to fade in the last few weeks return in a horrible, crushing wave. The old man peered at him, his hard expression softening slightly.

"I think you care about her," he said, more gentle now. "I know you'll do the right thing. Stay tonight, it's an important night. But tomorrow… Tomorrow please do the right thing…"

He loped away, leaving Loki stood alone, numb and slumping against the van. S.H.I.E.L.D. S.H.I.E.L.D coming after him, bringing their vengeance into Maeve's quiet, innocent life. He'd wanted to go home, or stay, or take her with him, he just wanted to remain near her. But now all his hopes were gone. He had to go. For once he had to do the selfless thing.

By the time Maeve led the children and parents back from their circle he was feeling nauseous and miserable. Families were cooking dinners and lighting a fire in the iron pit and Maeve was wandering round giving the children small parcels of sweets wrapped in red tissue paper, flitting over to Grayson constantly. Loki wanted to talk with her, to steal her away and tell her the truth about everything. But instead he watched from a distance, feeling increasingly detached.

In the evening when the children were ushered to bed there was a shift in mood. People began to disappear into their vans, Maeve climbing into hers to find Loki sat on the bed. She smiled at him, settling beside him with a hand on his arm.

"Are you alright?" she asked. "You've been so quiet today."

He looked at her, her cornflower eyes, her freckles, her pale pink lips. He wanted to say no, to tell her he had broken his word not to bring trouble to her door. He wanted to say he was sorry, for what he was doing now, for all he had done before, for lying and wounding and all the darkness he had ever unleashed.

Instead though he nodded, giving her a wan smile. She could see through it, her knew, as she gently touched the back of his hand.

"We'll be doing the ritual soon. You're welcome to watch if you like," she said. "I just need to get ready." He nodded in silence, brushing her fingers before stepping outside. Some people were milling around the fire pit already, clothed in gold, orange and yellow robes and smocks, cords and ribbons tied around waists and in hair. They looked completely out of time.

Bonita was amongst them and in moments she was beside Loki, ushering him with the group away from the campsite and a few minutes into then desert, until the caravan lights were winking in the distance. Grayson was there too, one of the corn wreaths Maeve had made on his head. Around him people were making a huge circle out of candles, laying out crystals and bound feathers, a cauldron, shells, more and more strange and beautiful objects that cast long shadows and glittered in the candlelight. They lay out corn dollies in the centre and someone balanced a sword across them and a stone chalice beside.

Bonita led Loki a few feet away from it all, explaining he couldn't stand in the circle but he was welcome to observe and he sat on the ground, forearms resting on his knees as he tried to ignore the feeling of a blade hanging over his head.

Soon the circle was ready and they stood waiting, talking amongst themselves. Finally they fell silent as Maeve approached. Loki looked over his shoulder, following the group's gaze to her and felt his stomach drop. She was clothed in a wine red dress, shoulders bare and white under the moonlight, bell sleeves fluttering in the mild breeze. The full skirts swam around her, a gold sash pulling in her small waist and her loose hair was crowned with a corn wreath, red ribbons ripping through her raven waves. She looked regal and beautiful, clean of any make up or jewellery. She was simply lovely, achingly so and Loki felt his chest tighten.

When she entered the circle she placed something in the middle and in the candlelight he recognized the statuette he'd made her. As she straightened up she caught his eye, giving him a shy smile before she was swallowed up in the group, someone sealing the circle with salt and the ritual beginning.

They chanted, they took one another's hands and wove their way around the space in intricate patterns, there was drumming, Grayson raising the sword point to draw down power into the space. Loki watched intently as Maeve opened her arms high over her head at one point, stalks of corn in each hand, her voice as clear as a bell;

"Behold the first of the harvest, symbol of the bounty of the land and of the Great Mother who sustains us. Let us give thanks for the fruitfulness She gives us. Blessed be."

She was echoed, then Grayson called upon various Gods and Goddesses by name to bless them all. They passed around the chalice, taking a sip from it each, some spicy wine inside. Loki couldn't help but watch Maeve, enrapt. She looked happy and radiant and he could feel the thought of leaving her beginning to twist like a knife in his side.

Finally she closed the ritual with a sung chant and when it was done they all embraced one another, laughing and crying 'Blessed be!' Then they were gathering everything up, heading back to the campsite in groups, Grayson leaning on Bonita's arm for support. Maeve hung behind to the last, statuette in her hand as she approached Loki, expression awkward and unusually shy.

"I know it might have looked a bit odd…" she began, but he cut her off, taking her hand.

"No. Not at all," he said softly. "It was… right." It was the best he could think of, this whole way of life was beyond typical conversation.

"We generally have a celebration now," she said, letting go of his hand awkwardly. She took a few steps down towards the campsite, looking back over her shoulder and brushing her hair behind her ear to call back to him,

"Are you coming?"


	11. Chapter 11

**I've had to change the rating of the story for the contents of this chapter. Still, tried to be tasteful. I hope people are still enjoying reading :)**

Thanos lifted the Infinity Gauntlet in glee, the incandescent lights from the gems shining on his face. It was done. His weapon, his tool, was complete. Finally the Trickster God would pay for reneging on their bargain and raw power would be his.

* * *

The fire in the iron pit was roaring, flames leaping into the air, the smell of charring meat wafting around as the barbecues were sizzling once more, though the men were cooking this time. Some people had thrown together a band, with a guitarist, tin whistle and someone playing a djembe drum and the sound of folk music filled the air. People were dancing and singing, one teenager was spinning poi, bright ribbons whirling through the air. Some of the children had gotten out of the bed but no one really minded, they were kept out of trouble with some bread and crayons.

In the midst of it all Maeve was back to playing hostess, pouring sweet smelling mead and ale into plastic cups, chalices, even a drinking horn or two. She'd changed out of her ritual robes and was in a shoulder less maxi-dress patterned with deep purple and blue flowers, her hair bundled up out of the way as she poured drinks, gathered plates and generally tried to make sure everyone was happy. Even Loki found himself drinking mead, others encouraging him to sit nearer the fire in their merry state. At one point he caught Grayson's eye and the old man nodded at him in their silent understanding.

He watched Maeve chase a toddler, scooping him up and kissing his chubby cheek, producing a squealing laugh before balancing him on her hip to take him back to his chuckling parents. She was so happy…

Over the evening the celebrations peaked, many people weaving their way around the fire in wild dances, the music thrumming, drumming faster and louder, something primal in the air. But Maeve was missing. She was running around picking up dirty cups and stacking dishes in her R.V.

As the night drew on some people began retreating to bed and in the small hours of the morning those who were still up were mellow, rather drunk and sat around the fire swaying to the now gentler music the small band was playing. A young woman was belly dancing, her bare midriff undulating to the deep tones coming from the drum. Grayson had retreated over an hour ago, giving Loki a meaningful glance as he went. Now as he sat draining the last of the mead in his cup, he felt the heavy reality that this was his last night with Maeve.

Filled with a new resolve he got to his feet, pulling the door to her caravan open to find her stood at the sink, working her way through a massive stack of washing up. Laying one hand on her back, he put the other on her arm, steering her away and saying,

"Let it be. Come on." He led her outside, she fumbling as she tried to wipe soap suds off her arms. Moving out of the circle of caravans so that they were under clear stars but could still hear the music, Loki surprised her by holding her waist and taking her hand, moving her in a slow circle. She looked up at him, eyes wide and he gave her a sad sort of smile. He could just tell her everything, confess all of it now. It wouldn't matter if she believed him or not, in the morning he would go. All he knew was he was finding the urge to just tell her the truth almost overwhelming.

As they moved Maeve tentatively lay her head on his chest and the feeling grew worse. She was good, innocent. He had lied to her and for the first time since he didn't know when, his lies felt wrong. She was lovely, she had looked so beautiful this evening and-

The realisation hit him like a sledgehammer. He instantly wished he hadn't had it, but there it was, out like a snake sunning itself on a rock. He froze and she looked up at him, a fine crease in her brow.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly.

_No. No, nothing is alright. Everything is wrong and cruel, everything is ruined and it is my fault and I am sorry, Maeve, so sorry for it all, for everything I have brought down on you and yours…_

"I am fine." Bare faced lie. She let go of his hand, stepping back slightly. He wanted her to stay, to feel her close again.

"There's something I need to talk to you about," she said, turning and starting to walk deeper into the desert, her hands clasped in front of her. He followed her and for a while they walked in silence, putting steadily more distance between themselves and the vans, till finally Maeve said,

"I'm thinking about moving. Grayson and I have sort of talked about it, he started pressing the issue again this afternoon."

Loki gave her a sidelong glance as they walked.

"That's what you were referring to earlier?"

"Yes. He doesn't think that it's right, you and I holed up in the van," she replied. "He's been pushing me to move into his condo again."

Loki felt a flicker of gratitude towards the old man. He was trying to get Maeve away without mentioning the fact he was being pursued by S.H.I.E.L.D. He had no doubt it was for her benefit, not his, but he was grateful none the less.

"I've always resisted," she was continuing, "but since his illness, I've been reconsidering. But not into his condo. I'd want it to be into a place of my own. My father left me more than enough money to buy…"

She stopped, looking up at Loki, awkward and cautious. Her hair was beginning to come loose from it's tie, dark tendrils skimming down her back.

"I suppose what I'm trying to say is, would you want to come with me? I know Utah is a long way from here but I don't think I can stay and… Well, I don't want to just leave you behind…"

She was starting to babble, clearly embarrassed and afraid he would reject her. He looked down at her, whishing sincerely for a moment that he could say yes. He knew that in this point of time, if he had been given the choice, he would have said yes and forgone his hunt for a return to Asgard a little longer.

But he didn't have a choice. He only had this night, this moment, and he didn't want to hurt her by saying no. Catching her hand he stopped her walking, pulling her around to face him, her torso pressed against his. Brushing a hand over her hair to cup the nape of her neck, he met her eyes, feeling her heart beating against his chest.

"You looked so lovely this evening," he said softly, thumb brushing her cheekbone. She looked up at him, pinpoints of starlight reflected in her eyes, words forgotten. Then he was leaning in, brushing his cheek across hers, pressing his lips to hers, tender and sincere. If he only had one moment left with her, let it be like this.

He felt her sink against him, hands resting on his chest. Her lips were warm and soft as silk and as he kissed her he could smell lavender and spices in her hair. He gripped her waist, pulling her in closer, tighter, wanting to be sure she was real in his arms, the kiss deepening. He was burning for her, need and desperation filling him. She wound her cool arms around his neck, standing on tips toes to return the kiss with more fervour and his mind was reeling. He wanted her, he wanted to tell her the truth, he wanted to keep her and save her all at once. He didn't know what sort of a man he was anymore but he knew who he wanted to be and it was slipping away.

His hands found their way into Maeve's hair, freeing it from it's tie and he was kissing her neck, hearing her sigh sweetly, her fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. In one sweeping move he spun her about, lowering them both to the ground so she was cradled in his lap, deft fingers caressing her neck, her shoulders, her bare arms. As he kissed her again he realise she was unbuttoning his shirt and felt the beast in his chest stretch and purr. He let her push the shirt off, her small hands tracing his spine, searching their way over old scars, resting her cheek on his shoulder. She was warm and sweet and as Loki gathered her hair to trace his fingertips over the ivy leaves on her shoulder blade he could almost feel his heart breaking. He looked down at her, cupping her face and laying her back onto the ground as he kissed her once more, one hand smoothing up the outside of her leg, lifting her dress to her thigh. Her skin was silken under his touch, silvery in the moonlight. Beneath him Maeve was reaching for more clothes fastenings and his hand wandered further, up over the curve of her hip to the soft flesh of her belly. He could feel his longing as a fire deep within and within moments of frenzied fumbling and tugging they were wound together, skin against skin. Loki felt a thrill of delight as he saw Maeve's ivy trailed all the way down her ribs and hip, ending coiled around her thigh. He ran his hands over every inch of her body he could, all the while kissing her with that desperate passion, the kiss of a man who knew his time was limited. She held him tightly, her back arching from the ground, leg wound with his and he buried his face in her shoulder, whispering one truth at least;

"Maeve, I love you…" And then he took her, causing her to gasp, nails biting into his back. One arm beneath her shoulders, he cradled her as she clung to him and for a while he was able to forget about all he had done, all he would have to do, all the pain he was responsible for. He was Maeve's only and as he pulled her up to embrace her to his chest tightly, she breathed in his ear,

"I love you too…"

* * *

Clint Barton lay on his stomach, surveying the campsite patiently. Touching his earpiece, he whispered,

"I don't see him. Or the girl. But there are children down there, Director."

On the Helicarrier bridge Fury paused in his pacing, a frown on his severe face.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Sir, absolutely." Fury scowled, rubbing his brow.

"We'll have to wait. We need to get them clear first," he rumbled.

"Loki will see us coming if we evacuate." The voice of Natasha Romanoff chimed in over the radio.

"If he is even still there," said the Director in frustration, returning to pacing back and forth. "Survey them till morning. See if you can get a glimpse of the Asgardian. Or Conor, for that matter. If you see either, neutralise them immediately."

* * *

Loki lay in silence, feeling content for the first time in as long as he could remember. Looking up at the sky as he ran his fingers up and down Maeve's back, he smiled to himself as she goose bumped at his touch. She lay with her head on his chest, their legs still entwined, bodies still burning. Overhead the sky was becoming lighter and Loki bowed his head to kiss Maeve tenderly, winding his fingers into her ebony tresses. When she broke away he looked down at her adoringly for a long, silent moment, wishing he could have more time. He'd whispered to her again and again that he loved her, needing her to know, to believe him before he left her. Months ago he would have spat at the very idea of feeling anything but contempt for the humans, but now all he wanted was to remain with this mortal girl.

Maeve rolled over to look down at him, propping herself on her elbow, brushing her fingers over his jaw.

"Come with me," she said softly. "I don't care who you were before, I love you now. Stay with me, Loki."

He caught her fingers, pressing the tips to his lips. He couldn't lie to her but he couldn't say no either. In the end, he chose the most tactful answer he could;

"I will always want to be with you."

It was enough to placate her. She believed he was saying yes. Let her. He would hurt her soon enough, let her have these last few hours. Let him hold her to his chest, bare and beautiful and just for a few hours more be at peace together.

As the sky turned a lighter shade of grey, Maeve sat up, pulling her knees up to her chest and gathering up her dress. Loki sat up behind her, kissing her back and shoulders softly, causing her to shiver. She looked back at him with a smile before pulling her dress over her head, then turned to lean in, her cheek hovering near his as she whispered;

"It's cold out here. Come back to bed with me?"

* * *

"Director, I have a visual," hissed Barton, notching his bow. Loki and the Connor girl had appeared amongst the caravans hand in hand, the sun coming up. The archer raised an eyebrow in surprise as he saw the Asgardian spin the girl around, kissing her up against an R.V. He'd expected many things but not this.

"Do you have a clean shot?" Fury's voice crackled in his ear.

"Er, not as such…" The two were embracing each other tightly as the girl fumbled blindly for the door handle, falling into the van together. Barton swore, lowering his bow.

"I lost it, sir. But I know where they are," he muttered into his com piece.

"Son of a… We need to wait for the civilians to clear," Fury said, "Phillips is down there. I'm not having a cardiac arrest on our hands, or any children getting hurt. Just don't lose them, Hawkeye."

"Understood, sir." He flicked his com over to a different channel, whispering in a low voice;

"Did you see what I saw, Tasha?"

"Loki and the girl? Yeah, I saw," came the reply. "This is getting complicated. You think it's genuine?"

"I dunno. They seemed… pretty…"

"Involved?"

Barton smiled slightly. On the other side of the site, hundreds of feet away, Romanoff rubbed her face with a sigh.

"This is going to get messy," she whispered into her mic, "I kno_w it is."_


	12. Chapter 12

**Another thank you for the kind reviews, guys. It's very motivating and just generally nice to hear people are enjoying. Have another chapter :)**

Maeve overslept. She clamoured out of bed just after one in the afternoon, leaving Loki sleeping while she threw on shorts and a vest, stepping out into the afternoon sun. Most of the vans had already gone, but Grayson's was left and she knocked on the door, trying not to smile too broadly as she thought of last night. He answered the door and invited her in for coffee. She sat at the table with crossed legs, nursing her cup as she looked at Gray with a bright smile.

"I've made a decision," she said, tapping her fingers on the mug, "I'm going to come to Utah."

The old man broke into a massive grin, stepping round the table to wrap her in a bear hug.

"Oh baby, I'm so proud of you," he said, kissing the top of her head. "You're making the right choice, I promise."

"The deal is though, I find my own place near you. I'm an adult, I've lived on my own a long time now and I want to keep my independence, ok?" She looked up at him and he pat her cheek paternally, nodding.

"Ok, baby girl, whatever you want."

"And you need to give me some time to find a place," Maeve continued. "Patience is a virtue, Poppa." He nodded, hugging her again.

"Call me plenty in the meantime. And I mean it this time, missy," he said firmly, "that fella got you running around like a blue assed fly and left you too busy to call your old man."

She smiled, a little guiltily, her cheeks turning rosy pink.

"I promise," she said, finishing her coffee as Bonita came into the R.V. A half hour later they were the last to leave, Grayson giving Maeve an unusually tight hug before they went.

She spent the afternoon clearing up the aftermath of last night's party, until the only evidence was a couple of black trash bags in the back of her truck.

When done she climbed back into bed with Loki, kissing his neck and chest until he woke, looking down at her with one of his wounded smiles, his fingers brushing her neck.

"They're all gone," she said softly, pulling her vest top off over her head. His fingers moved lower, following the curve of her breast and closed his eyes, aching. He should go now, S.H.I.E.L.D could be there at any moment, he should leave and lead them away. But she was slipping under the covers and he could feel her cool chest against his as she kissed him gently. Resting his hands on her hips he toyed the idea of snatching one more night with her.

* * *

Rogers and Banner sat silently in the back of Romanoff's plane, occasionally meeting each other's eyes. The silence was awkward, filled with apprehension. Somewhere outside Stark would be tailing them. They were hurtling towards the Connor girl's site, Barton having arranged to meet them a mile or so out.

Banner hung back as the group briefed once they were together. He'd agreed to come when Fury had said 'Loki'. The havoc he had wreaked on New York was unforgivable. But really, he hoped he wouldn't be necessary…

Finally they were moving, weaving their way between shadows and rock formations, slowly creeping towards the lone caravan.

* * *

Loki lay with Maeve in his arms, running his fingers over her belly in slow circles as she dozed lightly, her head on his shoulder. He could go now, while she was sleeping. He'd said goodbye, of sorts, in the bed. It was the best he could have done without actually saying the words.

Holding her tightly he felt her sleepily kiss his neck and he brushed a hand over her hair.

"Do not wake up," he whispered, kissing her temple. If he was going to do this he didn't want to see her eyes when he left. Carefully he slid out of the bed, pulling on his clothes and boots. With a guilty pang in his chest he found the coffee jar Maeve had first told him of when he arrived, taking twenty dollars, then knelt by the bed, kissing her cheek, her shoulder, her fingers. He could barely force himself to get up but he did, turning to leave.

A sonic boom shook the caravan, windows vibrating in their panes.

Maeve bolted upright in the bed and he was at her side again in a shot as she scrambled up, twitching the curtain to look out of the window.

"What was that?" she said in a trembling voice, her eyes widening as she looked up at the sky. Above was a familiar aurora of violet and cerulean, a swirling oil slick of light.

"Oh my God…" she breathed, "it's happening again!"

She jumped out of the bed, hurriedly pulling on a dress and grabbing Loki's hand, her face lit up with excitement.

"Quickly, come on, before it's over," she breathed, trying to pull him outside. But he stopped, winding an arm round her waist to stop her. Those lights were horribly familiar.

"Wait," he whispered, cupping her face. "Please, wait here." He looked down at her in genuine fear and eyes widening slowly, she nodded. Loki kissed her forehead, then cautiously let himself outside, Maeve running to the window to watch. In moments his shape was fading in billows of dust and sand, lights flashing around him like strobes.

* * *

As the storm exploded overhead the Avengers reeled, awestruck by the thirty foot wide cylinder of light that erupted from the sky.

"What the heck was that?" yelled Captain Rogers over the noise of the storm. Inside his suit, Stark's eyes flicked over the holographic readings popping up rapidly, showing a surge of energy and radiation rapidly spiralling off the charts, forming a tunnel down from the atmosphere.

"Holy crap," he said, jaw slackening, "I recognize this thing. It's one of Jane Foster's theories on plasma physics. I think that's an Einstein-Rosen Bridge." Romanoff looked over at Stark, shielding her eyes with her forearm.

"In English, please!"

"It's a wormhole!"

The group looked up at the storm, Barton murmuring,

"Oh shit…" before they broke into a run.

* * *

Loki struggled his way forwards, blinded by the storm, until the wind suddenly dropped, lights still illuminating the sky like a nebula. He spun on the spot, trying to catch his bearings, seeing Maeve's caravan in the distance. As he caught his breath he heard a voice rumble that made his blood turn to ice in his veins;

"Princeling…"

He turned on his heel, looking up into the midnight coloured face of the Titan Thanos, towering over him, his gaze pure wickedness. He lifted a massive hand gloved in bright gold and jewels, snarling, flecks of spittle appearing at the corners of his mouth.

"You owe me this world. You belong to me now, Asgardian." He seized Loki by the throat, lifting him clean off the ground. In that moment the fallen God knew true terror and regret, for Maeve, for Grayson, for the children who had been at Lughnasadh. He had opened the door to pure evil on this world, it was crushing his oesophagus now and Maeve would fall victim to this demon.

He could feel the lack of oxygen beginning to lull him into unconsciousness when Thanos suddenly threw him several feet away with a roar. Loki pushes himself up, gasping lungful of cold air, feeling the palm of his hand burning. He looked down, seeing the faint red outline of the rune Maeve had marked him with weeks ago, smouldering in his skin. With a frantic look up, he saw with wide eyes Thanos reeling in pain, a branding of the same mark smoking between his eyes. Seizing the opportunity, he scrambled to his feet, sprinting away. Maeve. He had to get to Maeve.

He could hear Thanos raging behind him, in pain and infuriated. He had seconds, maybe minutes if he was lucky enough, to get to Maeve, to try and save her.

Finally throwing himself against the van door he wrenched it open, Maeve leaping up from the bed. Before she could ask what was happening he grabbed her arm, dragging her out and hissing for her to run.

As they pounded over the dry earth Loki was telling her not to look back and dragged her into a nook between a rock formation, cupping her face as she trembled, flinching when they heard something mammoth crushing metal and glass. Her van was gone. Loki held her face, making her look him in the eye, whispering almost inaudibly,

"Ssh, ssh, look at me. Listen, listen."

She was terrified, barely breathing, but she managed to nod, keeping her gaze on him.

"I lied to you," he whispered, desperate now to tell her the truth before he was killed. "I lied and I am so sorry, Maeve. I am not named after the Trickster God, I am him, Midgard was my punishment for the war I unleashed on your people. The All Father stripped me of my powers and sent me here as penance for what I did. I have lied to you over and over and that creature you can hear, I used to serve him, I betrayed him, and now he wants his vengeance…"

She was looking at him as though he was insane, her eyes enormous, but he needed to tell her the truth, as much as he had time for.

"I have done many terrible things, Maeve. I have sought war, I tried to kill my brother, I almost brought the downfall of my people as well as yours. I know that you will not believe me but I am Loki Laufeyson and I am so sorry, Maeve…"

The roaring was growing nearer, the ground shaking with each of his steps. Maeve tried to move away to look but Loki kept hold of her face, still blurting his confession.

"No matter what else you believe, I beg of you, believe that I love you and that I never meant for this. I am sorry, and I will do all I can to stop this."

Then he kissed her, hard and desperately, a kiss that implored her to believe him. Beyond, Thanos was bellowing,

"Loki! Loki! Your soul is mine, you speck! Face me or I shall crush every human skull beneath my foot, starting with your pet!"

Loki broke the kiss, brushing his fingers down Maeve's cheek and whispering to her,

"You are the best of your kind," before darting out from the rocks to face the Titan. Perhaps he could employ what he had left of his silver tongue and save Maeve's life.


	13. Chapter 13

**An apology for the cliffhanger in the chapter before guys. I ummed and aahed about it being one segment, but it was just too darn long so I broke it down into more manageable chunks. Which meant that yes, I did leave you wanting *guilty grin* Hope I am forgiven...**

As Loki approached the Titan he opened his arms wide, bowing courteously, his eyes never leaving the heavily bejewelled glove. Raw power emanated from it, he could physically feel how dangerous it was.

"Lord Thanos," he said as silkily as he could, "always a pleasure."

"Do not be sycophantic with me, princeling," Thanos snarled, his head lowered to glare at the Asgardian. He had him talking. If he was careful perhaps he could move him now.

"Not at all," he said, slowly stepping away from Maeve's hiding place, turning him, leading him one inch at a time. "You are the first being of higher calibre I have seen in weeks."

"The All Father cursed you to live with the humans," Thanos growled with a smirk. "He is not without a sense of irony." He was following Loki, stepping away, gradually putting more distance between he and Maeve.

"A temporary measure at worst," the fallen God drawled, still stepping carefully.

"I agree," said the Titan, flexing his golden fingers. "You failed to deliver me the Tesseract and so you are mine now. As is this world. If I cannot have the cube's power I will bleed the nine realms for their energy, beginning here." He bent down, leering in Loki's face. "And you will be my vessel."

He twitched his hand and Loki felt his body seize up, burning with pain. His feet lifted from the ground, back arching in agony and he was screaming as Thanos roared,

"Open the ley lines! Deliver Midgard to me!" He was twisting the God, the glove glowing and pulsating with raw magic. The mark on his brow was searing again but it didn't seem to matter anymore, his desire was overwhelming it.

"Do not defy me, Asgardian! You have the power, open Earth's veins to me!"

"Stop!"

Through the thick veil of pain, Loki heard Maeve's voice, his heart hurting in his chest. She had abandoned her hiding place, in plain sight now. He couldn't protect her.

The diminutive girl looked up the massive alien creature, trembling head to foot as she confronted him, trying not to look at Loki as he writhed in Thanos' spell.

"Stop," she said again, struggling to keep her voice even. "He can't do it. He doesn't have any power anymore, he's human…"

The Titan looked down at the girl, regarding her with undeniable interest.

"I can do what you want," she whispered, "just please, let him go and I'll give you what you want."

Thanos roared with laughter, twitching his hand to contort Loki further, producing another scream.

"Stop!" she cried again desperately. She ran forwards a few steps, ducking to grab a handful of earth and thrusting her palm towards the Titan. The dust in her cupped palm was emanating an ethereal green light.

"Look, please look! I can give you what you want, just please let him go!" She was begging, terrified, her fingers shaking. When Thanos saw her hand, his face split into a triumphant smile and Loki dropped like a stone, landing with a thud on the ground. Maeve took a few fearful steps back as he leered at her, the glove emitting sparks.

"Sorceress," he breathed, his gaze utterly predatory.

"If you like," she whispered, quavering as his hot breath condensed on her face.

"You can open the ley lines of this world? Make it's energy mine?"

"Yes…" she breathed, trying not to turn and run in terror. He grinned in her face, tracing a massive fingertip over her cheekbone, drawing a whimper from her.

"Show me."

Almost unable to breathe for fear, she knelt on the ground, tracing sigils into the dirt with her fingertips. As she worked she risked a glance at Loki, meeting his dazed eyes. He was barely conscious, lost in pain. She began to work faster, sealing the symbols in a circle then stood up in the centre, trying not to shake as she looked up at Thanos.

"It's ready," she murmured.

"I see nothing," the Titan snarled, raising his glove threateningly.

"It needs to connect," she said quickly. "And a catalyst." She pulled her pentacle off roughly, pressing one of the points into her palm, teeth clenched in pain as she drew blood, dripping it on the ground. Then she looked up and whispered,

"The glove…"

The Titan slowly extended his gauntleted hand towards her and she risked one more look to Loki, mouthing 'Run…' before she slowly closed her bloody hands around the glove, a volt of power coursing through her like an electric shock. It seared through her and into Thanos, the sigils beneath her feet erupting into light. Reams of emerald fluorescence swam from her to him, the air filling with static.

Slowly Loki became aware of what was happening and dragged himself over the ground, trying to get to his feet. Overhead there was an explosion of thunder and through pained eyes he could see Maeve in a pillar of light, her hands in Thanos' grip. Loki dug his fingers in the dirt, trying to push himself up, lightning splitting the skies and suddenly he felt a powerful pair of arms lifting him up, pulling him away.

"Stop, brother." Thor's voice filled his ear. "Stop. This is beyond our control." He was dragging Loki and the fallen God lifted his aching head, eyes falling on Maeve and Thanos, heart leaping into his mouth. A tornado of beryl light was swallowing them, the Infinity Gauntlet pulsing, gems all turned a deep green as they absorbed the power. Thanos began to laugh triumphantly, Maeve writhing in his grip, the raw energy searing her palms and the soles of her feet with blistering burns. Tears were streaking her face as she channelled and Loki grappled against Thor's hold, thrashing to get to her.

"Stop this!" he screamed, flailing against the Thunder God's arms, his human body feeble against him. "If you were ever my brother, you will stop this!"

"I cannot," groaned Thor. He lifted Mjolnir, summoning an electrical field around them to shield them from the fallout of Maeve's spell. Through it they could see the witch struggling, the energy building in a tumultuous storm, even Thanos beginning to look nervous.

And beyond there were familiar shapes; a man carrying a shield, a woman clad in black leather, the metal man. S.H.I.E.L.D were there and they were cowering like children by the rocks, hiding. Loki fixed his gaze on them, roaring,

"Do something, damn you!"

Suddenly the girl began to laugh, releasing her grip on the gauntlet, the emerald light swimming around her faster and faster. The Titan snarled at her, roaring over the wind,

"What is so funny, child?"

Maeve was slowly levitating, the illumination around her impossibly bright, a small sun, her eyes lost in white hot brilliance. She was laughing hysterically, though tears were streaming down her cheeks still.

"WHAT?" Thanos exploded.

"You're so assumptive…" the girl said. Her voice was rich and removed, not her own anymore. "You think that this world is something that can be possessed?"

Loki froze in Thor's grip, feeling his heart hammer. Something had changed.

"Maeve…" he whispered desperately.

Thanos went to grab the girl in his massive hand as though she was a rag doll, but as he did he screamed in pain, the Infinity Gauntlet hissing and spitting sparks. He roared, clutching his wrist. Maeve laughed again, rising further from the ground until she was at eye level with the Titan, her hair and clothing rippling as though she were submerged in water.

"She is not something you can own," she said in that strange, alien voice. "She is not just some lump of rock, hurtling through space. She is a living, breathing being, and when you hurt Her, She fights back."

There was a split second to glimpse a flash of fear in Thanos' eyes before the girl exploded in searing radiance, swamping the Titan. He was screaming in agony and Loki was fighting again, bellowing,

"MAEVE!"

Seconds became eternity as Thanos was overwhelmed with the full force of Earth's vengeance and through the hurricane of magic Loki saw a portal open. The Titan was fleeing and he tore at Thor's grip, screaming in fear and rage before a brilliant flash of light with Maeve at the centre of it washed over them, the Thunder God ducking and sheltering Loki from the shockwave.

Then there was nothing but silence.

* * *

Captain Rogers slowly lowered his shield, taking a deep breath. He and the others had taken shelter between some stones as the swelling of energy was reaching it's peak and now it was quiet Steve glanced at Romanoff, his eyes wide.

"Did someone just set off a bomb?"

"I don't know," she panted, giving him a shove. "Come on, Captain, we need to contain this thing."

* * *

Loki wrenched his way finally from Thor's hold, the Thunder God letting him go, his heart sinking. The witch lay crumpled in the remains of her spell circle, a feeble, pale thing. He watched in building despair as his brother fell to his knees beside her, gathering her up to cradle her in his arms.

Loki held Maeve tightly to his chest, smoothing her hair out of her face, feeling his chest burn.

"Maeve…" he whispered, touching her lips with trembling fingertips. Her eyes were open but glassy, capillaries burst in them like crimson spider webs. Her head lolled over his arm and he could feel something terrible rising in him as he pulled her closer, crushing her to him and brushing her eyelashes.

"Maeve, I beg you, say one word, please…"

He brought one her hands to his chest, her palm shiny red and blotched with blisters and the feeling overflowed in a raw, agonizing scream that rang into the dark around them.

The small group of S.H.I.E.L.D's finest looked on in silence at the Asgardian clutching the Connor girl, his face buried in her hair. Thor was there, hovering a few feet away listlessly, his face grief stricken. They had expected many things, but not this.

"Oh my God…" breathed Romanoff. This was wrong. This was horrible…

Suddenly Banner was moving, running towards Loki and the girl, kneeling before them. The Asgardian was so lost he didn't even seem to notice as Bruce took her wrist, pressing on the inside firmly with two fingertips. After a moment he looked up and started yelling.

"Get the plane, there's a pulse! Move!"


	14. Chapter 14

***Blink* Thank you all for the sudden gush of reviews. I'm reeling a little! I feel at this point I should probably apologise... *hides under cushions***

On a small screen Thor looked at an image of Loki stood in a narrow cell, his arms cuffed behind his back. He was utterly still, pain etched into his pale face, just standing there listlessly.

"You're telling me he was sent here _intentionally_?" Fury was saying. He still couldn't believe what he was being told.

"Our father made him mortal. No powers, no escape. He wanted him to learn a lesson," Thor said, again. The words tasted bitter in his mouth.

"All the tests have backed it up," Stark added, pushing his tablet towards Fury so he could read them for himself. "He's as pink and squishy as you or I, Director."

"And that blue ass monkey the satellites picked up?" Fury continued.

"I do not know," said Thor, "but he is gone now."

"Damn right he is. That girl set off something the equivalent of a small nuclear bomb!"

Thor could feel anger rising within him. He had not come to Earth to be interrogated.

"You can press the issue as much as it pleases you, Fury, but I do not know what has happened tonight," he growled. "All I know is that Loki is powerless, the girl too now it seems and no person can be glad of what occurred!" He slammed a fist on the table, seething. There had been suffering tonight, the last thing he wanted was the mortals to tug him about in some blame war.

"Easy, big guy," said Tony in a low voice, slowly rising to put a hand on the Thunder God's shoulder. "Come on, go see your brother. I think for now we can extend some visitation rights."

* * *

Loki didn't look up as the door to his cell opened. He couldn't shake the image of Maeve's empty eyes from his mind, the blood seeping into them…

"Brother, I am sorry…." Thor's voice, speaking to him gently. He couldn't even summon the energy to feel any hate. He was numb, withdrawn. Thor wandered into the cell, gripping Loki's shoulder firmly, trying to offer him some comfort.

"I can take you to her," he said, "she is in their healing rooms." Loki looked up at him slowly and the Thunder God nodded once, then was steering him out of the cell, glowering at the armed guards that flanked them.

When they reached the infirmary they stopped outside a room with a large glass window. There were more men there in flak jackets and carrying weapons stood guarding the room, their gazes trained on the door. In between them stood Romanoff, arms folded, looking inside the window, the lights inside dim. When Loki arrived she turned and regarded him coolly, then to his surprise stepped behind him and undid the cuffs, saying softly as she did,

"Just so you're aware, you're going to be trained by several M-16s while you're in there. I understand they would have a little more impact these days." She stepped back around to look up at him, so used to seeing sadistic, superior smiles that the wounded passiveness emanating from him unsettled her. She stepped aside, unlocking the door and opening it. Thor steered him in before closing the door behind him and standing beside Natasha to look through the window.

In the room there was the sounds of low beeping and the whooshing of machinery breaking the quiet. In the centre was a high bed with railing surrounded by the machinery and wires, countlessly criss-crossing over one another and in the bed was the tiny frame of Maeve, hooked up to it all. Loki felt his heart struggling to beat as he sat in a chair beside the bed, taking her bandaged hand, trying to ignore the IV catheter sticking out the back of it. His eyes travelled to her face, letting out an involuntary groan at the sight of the tube protruding from her mouth and taped to her face. She was swamped by pipes and wires and Loki struggled not to vomit as he stroked her dark hair.

Outside the room Natasha watched, frowning, speaking without looking away;

"Is this genuine?"

Thor peered down at her, tilting his head.

"I do not understand," he said.

"He looks as though he cares," the woman continued. "Is it real?"

The Asgardian looked back into the room, where Loki was leant in close to the girl, whispering to her as he brushed her forehead, his eyes shiny.

"I believe that it is," he said mournfully. "The way that he fought… My brother has done many things but until today I have never seen him fight to put himself in harms way for another. He was always more wily than that."

Romanoff sighed, rubbing her face.

"Then he needs to know the truth," she said slowly. "I never thought I would feel pity for Loki, of all people…"

"He is not innately evil," said Thor, forearm resting on the glass above his head as he leant against it to watch. "Something went wrong along the way. He was once a caring and attentive son and brother. I believe that man still exists, beneath the rage."

Inside the room Loki was talking to Maeve gently, his face a few inches from hers.

"It is over now," he was whispering. "You stopped it all and the All Father will surely see you are worthy of a place in Asgard. You do not belong here. Like this…" His eyes flickered to the machinery and he leant over to kiss her brow softly, feeling an unbidden tear escape. As he straightened again he became aware he was not alone in the room. Turning in his seat he saw the Romanoff woman was stood behind him, along with Thor.

"Back to my prison, then?" he said, noticing the woman's thumb resting on the hilt of a pistol at her hip.

"Not yet, brother," said Thor, misery written over his fair face. "We must speak about the woman."

"Her name is Maeve," Loki said icily. Thor knelt beside him cautiously, handing him something. It was the miniature self portrait he had carved for her.

"This was found amongst the wreckage of her home," he said. Loki looked down at it, eyes burning. "I know that you harbour affection for her. But you must know, she will not wake from this ailment. She cannot." Emerald eyes flashed up to Thor in disbelief.

"She's suffered a brain aneurysm," Romanoff added in an even tone. "Whatever happened in the desert, it was too much for her. She's brain dead…."

Loki looked back at the girl in the bed, head reeling as he said,

"But she is breathing…"

"It's the machines," Natasha's calm voice continued. "They're technically keeping her alive. Breathing for her, keeping her heart beating. But everything that made her Maeve Connor, it's gone."

"Eventually these machines will have to be switched off, Loki…" Thor said softly. "We cannot force artificial life upon her…"

Loki drew a laboured breath, eyes looking at the screens, the bags of fluid, then at Maeve's pallid face, his jaw hardening.

"Get out," he whispered.

"Brother-"

"Get out!" He jumped up from the chair, face livid. He heard Romanoff click the safety on her gun but Thor lay a hand on her arm to stop her. Slowly he pulled her out of the room and Loki fell back into the seat, looking down at Maeve hopelessly. He watched her chest rise and fall, slowly realising it was in perfect rhythm with a valve in one of the machines, a large glass tube with a white diaphragm rising and falling, rising and falling. The full weight of the truth came down upon him in that moment and he sank forwards, burying his face in Maeve's stomach, muffling deep sobs.

Outside the window, Thor rumbled,

"I cannot bear this…" and stormed away, tipping over a table of medical supplies with a furious roar as he went.

* * *

Loki sat with her for two days. One by one the Avengers came to peer in the window, out of some morbid curiosity and pity. When Rogers looked in, he mumbled,

"This is so wrong," shaking his head miserably.

On the third day Loki wiled away an hour stroking her face, his chest aching as he saw how papery thin and sallow her skin was. The sweet faced girl he knew was shrinking away before him. With a crumbling heart he knew she would not come back.

When he opened the door to her room he found Thor sat outside it, one knee pulled up to his broad chest. He looked up at Loki and the pale Asgardian said in a broken voice,

"Make this stop."

Twenty minutes later a nurse was switching off machinery and relieving Maeve of the tubing in her throat, slowly clearing her until she looked something like the girl she was before. She turned to Loki who was sat clinging to the girl's hand, saying gently,

"She'll breathe on her own for a little while, but it won't last long. It'll be very quiet. She won't suffer, I promise."

Loki nodded once, winding Maeve's fingers around the statuette he had given her. When the nurse left the room it was to find all of the Avengers stood outside it, watching silently. Loki had been their enemy but the Connor girl was innocent apparently and she had changed something in him. It didn't seem right to leave him alone with his suffering.

"It won't be long," the nurse told them quietly.

As the final minutes of Maeve's life ticked away, Loki told her everything he could of Asgard, of golden cities in the clouds and oceans that fell off the edge of the world, of the broken Bifrost. He imparted every beautiful detail he could, all the while stroking her face, sure her cheeks were a little pinker.

"It is all real," he told her, "and Yggdrasil binds it all together. It is all real and you were right. And if I had been given the chance, I would have taken you there." He took a shuddery breath, leaning over to kiss her softly and as he did, the beeping became one steady, high pitched tone. He broke away, looking down at her when a man in a white coat was bundling him out of the way. Loki watched, numb, as the doctor listened to her heart with a stethoscope then held onto her wrist, checking his watch. The nurse came in with a clipboard and the doctor quoted a time, then flicked a switch on the whining machine, leaving the room in a heavy, crushing silence.

"I'm so sorry," said the nurse before they both exited the room and Loki sank into his chair in silence, looking at Maeve, void of emotion.

Eventually Thor pushed the door to the room open and stood beside him silently, while the rest of the team dispersed. There was nothing left to do.


	15. Chapter 15

**And here's the final chapter, apologies to those of you I made sad *offers contrite cuddles* **

The decision to take Loki back to Asgard had been one Thor had to fight for. Fury had wanted to keep him under S.H.I.E.L.D incarceration, still furious that Earth had been used to make an example of him. In the end he relinquished but not without making it clear relations with the Asgardians was tenuous at best now. And only when Thor swore he would imprisoned indefinitely under his keeping had he budged at all. When Loki was told of this arrangement, it seemed to make little impact.

"Better a thousand years in prison than one more day like this," had been his reply. They were his only words since Maeve had died.

The Avengers escorted them back to the desert to open the portal. The Bifrost was broken, yes, but Odin was expecting them, sending his ravens to watch over proceedings as in stone silence they parted ways, the two brothers being swallowed in a vivid flash of electric blue.

When they arrived in Asgard, Odin was waiting for them, his wizened face betraying his regret at what had happened. Loki was unable to look up at him, unable to do anything through his cloud of pain. The All Father lay a hand on his shoulder, his voice sincere as he spoke;

"I am sorry, my son. I did not mean for you to suffer such as this." He meant it, and in days past Loki would have fell to him, looking for paternal comfort. None of that now. He may not have meant this but it had happened and it was his fault.

A warmth spread from the king's hand and Loki's mortal clothing was melting away, replaced by his former robes, prickling heat spreading through his veins. He was restoring his power, perhaps by way of apology, but it barely registered. The grief was blinding, consuming. So long he had wished for this moment, but he would give it all back a thousand times over to have Maeve once more.

He allowed himself to be manacled, the muzzle dispensed with this time and led by a quintet of guards, the sight of Asgard repulsing him now. He was marched through the city to Odin's hall, Thor at their heels. A glimpse of Frigga, his mother, standing near the throne. His mother still. Her lovely face stricken as she saw him, though she did nothing. What could she do?

They spiralled deep into the catacombs of the palace, to the dungeons, to a cell, his new home. It was cold and sparse, none of the golden splendour here. He stepped into it without thought, the manacles dissolving. A wall of deadly looking spikes twisted into being to seal him in, similar to those that had once held the Destroyer. He stood in the centre, breathing through his nose. No rage, no envy, just his grief swallowing him in it's black hole.

Thor dismissed the guards once it was done and stood outside the cell, his expression torn.

"If I could take this burden from you, I would," he said, resting his hand on the wall.

"But you cannot," said Loki in a low voice. "And even if you could, I would not let you. It is all that I have left of her."

Thor sighed, rubbing his eyes before looking up again.

"One day you will come back to our family, Loki. I will not give up on you."

He turned away, pacing up the long flight of stairs out of the dungeon with heavy feet and Loki was left standing alone. He closed his eyes, remembering that last night with her, that perfect night making love under the moon, her skin milky, hair smelling of wildflowers and herbs. He reached up to his throat, fingers touching the cold silver of the triple moon pendant. A faint, mournful smile crossed his lips as he closed his hand around it, remembering the taste of her kiss, the warmth of her smile. She had been sweet and beautiful and for a short while she had been his. If he had to spend eternity in this cell he still had his memories of her and how for a short while he had known genuine love.

* * *

A pair of cornflower blue eyes snapped open to be greeted by an impossible sky. Alien constellations, nebulae, the whole of space above her as though someone had cracked the atmosphere and laid it bare.

Maeve sat up slowly, finding herself in a meadow, the grass long and lush, impossibly green, species of wildflowers she couldn't recognise rolling through it. Beyond she saw blue mountain ranges, a waterfall cutting it's way through them and tumbling into a lake. It seemed some hand had gathered up the most beautiful aspects of the world and condensed them into one perfect place.

Trying to take it all in, Maeve got to her feet, trembling as she did. Looking down at herself she found she was clad in translucent silver-blue silk that shimmered like water. She spun around on the spot, calling,

"Hello?" the word seeming feeble and stupid in a place such as this.

"Well met, Maeve."

She paused, her heart skipping at the sound of a warm, maternal voice. Turning to look at it's source she couldn't help but gasp aloud. Before her was the most incandescently beautiful woman she had ever seen, tall and soft, with full hips and platinum hair cascading past her waist. She was clothed in a white gown so thin you could see the outlines of her body and at her feet two enormous wildcats sat staring at Maeve with intent yellow eyes. The girl felt her eyes welling as she suddenly realised who was stood before her.

"Freya," she whispered, a silver tear running down her face.

"Welcome to my garden, Maeve," the woman said in that beautiful voice, cupping the girl's face and wiping the tear away with her thumb.

"Your garden… You mean Folkvangr?" Maeve breathed, her head reeling.

"Yes."

"Then… I'm dead?"

"Your mortal body has passed, yes. But I have seen your exploits," the Goddess said. "I chose to bring you here."

Dead. Mortal body. Dead.

Maeve could feel herself falling, slipping to the ground, landing heavily amongst the grass, her face in her hands as she struggled to breathe. Breathe? Ha! She was dead!

"It's alright," Freya said soothingly, a strong hand under her arm to pull her to her feet. "I know you are afraid, but you needn't be." She held the girl up as she recovered her footing, then gently began to steer her, saying,

"Walk with me a while."

They were walking through the meadow, Maeve's dazed eyes finding her way back to the Goddess' face, the elegant features fixed in a small, knowing smile.

"Why am I here?" she whispered as they walked, barely feeling her feet touch the ground.

"Reward where it is due," Freya replied. "You gave your life so that Thanos could be expelled from Midgard. You will know joy and peace here now for your deeds."

"That was real?" Maeve stopped, her jaw slack as she looked up at the other woman.

"You doubt it?" Freya asked, peering back at her. Her eyes were the deepest blue, the colour of oceans, boring into Maeve.

"I'm still not sure this is… Everything became very bizarre very quickly…" Maeve said lamely.

"It was. And this is. Your corporeal self has passed and I brought your spirit here. Those I deem worthy may walk in my garden." She gave her a dazzling smile, all beauty and radiance and Maeve looked around herself once more, her throat sticking.

"Then Loki…?" she breathed.

"Was who he claimed to be, yes. But you already believed that, didn't you?" Freya said, bending to scratch one of the cats behind the ears. Maeve felt an overwhelming urge to burst into tears.

"He really was a God," she whispered, more to herself than Freya. "And if this is real, then you are a Goddess. I'm dead and I love a God…" Her head snapped up and she looked at Freya, something frantic in her eyes.

"Where is he?"

The Goddess smiled down at her gently, a touch of sorrow in her face.

"I can show you," she said softly, "but I cannot take you." She held out a hand to Maeve and the girl took it tentatively. Leaning over she brought the small fingers to a decadent necklace at her throat and as they touched Maeve's mind exploded with a vision of somewhere else.

A steely, cold cell of no sort of prison she could recognise. In the centre stood Loki, clad in ornate leather robes, all green and black and dusky gold. His raven head bowed. It looked so real, she ached to lift her hand and touch his face, but as quickly as it materialised, it faded and Maeve took a deep breath, opening her eyes to find herself encircled in Freya's arms in a maternal embrace.

"Where is he?" She was whispering still, leaning against the Goddess to keep herself standing.

"In Odin's prison. The All Father has done what he must, as much to protect Loki from himself as it is to protect the Nine Realms."

"And I can't go to him?" Maeve looked up at the golden haired woman, tearing up.

"I'm sorry," Freya replied gently. "Even I cannot deny the All Father's will. If Loki knew you were here, chances are he would rip apart Valhalla itself to get to you."

Maeve stared at her aghast, before pushing herself away, a new surge of anger filling her. She turned her back on the Goddess, taking a few steps, chest heaving.

"This is all wrong! I was supposed to go to the Summerlands, to rest, to be born again! You bring me here, you show me that, but then you tell me I will never see him again?" She spun around, furious tears lining her face. "This is cruel!"

Freya approached her slowly, shaking her head.

"You do not understand," she said gently. "You have a mortal concept of time, but it is not the same here. An eternity can pass in a day. You may see him again yet. If you had reincarnated then all hope of such a thing would have been lost."

Maeve swallowed, trying to calm herself down. She allowed Freya to slowly pull her into her hold again, warm hands stroking her dark hair.

"So few remember us on Midgard now. I wanted to give you a chance," she whispered, resting her cheek on her crown. Maeve stood limply in her arms for a long while, lost in thought, then looked up at her slowly, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

"Is there any way I can at least send him something?"

* * *

Loki looked up slowly as he heard footsteps. They were light and fleet and eventually bore a fresh face maiden down the stairs, who apparently had the authority to dismiss his guards. When she turned to look at him he saw fear in her chestnut eyes and she approached his cell as one might a wolf. He stood from the bench he was sitting on, walking up to the wall of spurs to peer down at her coldly. She gave a nervous curtsey, speaking in hushed tones as she straightened;

"I am a handmaiden of Freya. My Lady bade me give you this. She said that you would know what it meant."

Slipping a slender hand through the cell, he took what she was offering and she turned quickly, running back up the steps from the dungeon.

Looking down at what he was holding, Loki felt his heart stop for a moment. It was a small doll made of woven grass, a simple figure.

Sitting back on the bench he cupped it in both hands, looking at it enrapt. Slowly a devious smile crept over his face.

"Maeve…"

* * *

**I am toying with the idea of a sequel, something I've never done before. If anyone would like me to do one, please let me know. And thank you to all of you that stuck through to the end, I am so glad *hugs*  
**


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